


The Twelfth Trap

by Nanyoky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, SHAKESPEARE William - Works, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Parent Trap (1998), Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Gen, M/M, Marvel/Shakespeare Crossover, Twins, i am a sin against nature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 37,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4442354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanyoky/pseuds/Nanyoky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a messy breakup, two special agents each took one of their adopted twins and vowed never to contact the other- or let their children know that they had a sibling. 21 years later, Wanda Bennet and Pietro Rykov each take a cruise vacation and form a connection. Just as they discover their family's secrets, disaster strikes. Each must find their way home- but maybe not to the home they grew up in.<br/>Avengers/Twelfth Night/Parent Trap Crossover<br/>Finished</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I think everyone has at least one shame fic. It's usually porn. But here we are and here is my shame fic. I will try to update regularly, as I have maybe 1/3 of this finished? But with the semester starting soon, who knows what will happen.  
> A Note: This story takes place in many different countries. Only being fluent in English myself, I will be writing mostly in English with a few simple words or phrases translated. It is safe to assume that the language characters should be speaking is the one that makes the most sense with their background and fluency (Pietro and Natasha speak Russian together, Clint and Wanda speak English, etc.) Even if they are small sections, my translated phrases will probably not be the most accurate, as I only have Omniglot and Google Translate, so my apologies if you speak Russian, Hungarian, Portuguese, or Italian. However, if anyone spoke those languages and wanted to beta test my phrases or suggest something that sounded more natural, please drop me a line!

_New York, New York, 1992_

At the late night gala, there were plenty of glamorous figures, dancing, drinking and mingling with one another. Amongst all the politicians and social climbers, one pair danced and moved with one another, participating in the social climate, but only enough to blend in. They fit the elegant air of the gathering, but were not beautiful enough to catch the eye of anyone much longer than some of the stunning characters around them. The man looked slightly less comfortable than his partner, fidgeting with the buttons of his suit jacket and tugging at his cuffs. The woman teased him for it and smoothed his clothes over after each worry, her own black satin dress immaculate and elegantly draped.

_"Hawk? Widow? Are you two in position?"_

The man spun his partner a few degrees to their left with the hand on the patch of skin bared by her dress.

"Give us a minute."

"You're talking through your teeth, _darling_ ," the woman buried her words in an effected, melodic laugh, showing him how it was done. "Even an idiot can spot someone talking through their teeth."

"Base, can you tell my wife not to critique my performance on a mission?"

"Better than in bed. You're still doing it."

They both laughed politely as they danced, leaning on one another as though the barely sipped glasses of champagne in their hands were already going to their heads. No one paid them much attention except to sniff or chuckle at their behavior.

_"Just keep your cover, you two. Talk about your boring home life."_

"Sure thing, Base," the man spun his wife and partner to a better vantage point so she could see their mark over his shoulder. "So- you've been thinking about it, right? Two?"

She frowned, rolling her eyes up and batting her lashes as though the conversation had taken a teasing, flirty direction. "I think two is a good idea, but at the same time? Don't you want a practice one first and then a good one?"

The man tried not to roll his eyes at the over-the-top performance his wife was putting on. She always had way more fun with this sort of mission than she should.

"Well we could still do that- just on a more immediate basis."

"Oh well that's fine then."

"Or," he frowned thoughtfully. "We could change which one is the practice on every week or so. That way they'll end up more evenly messed up."

She shook her head. "No, I like the version where one's evil and one's good. That way the good one can devote their life to foiling the other's plans. If they're both just _half_ messed up, there's no one to stop them."

"This is starting to sound less like family planning and more like a comic book."

"Hey- I like comic books."

_"This is great you two- keep up the adoption bullshit. No one there could possibly think you're making this crap up."_

The couple raised their eyebrows at each other. The woman dropped her head onto her husband's shoulder, bringing her mouth closer to his ear- the one without the earpiece feeding them the base's instructions. Her ear on his shoulder muffled the device there enough for a small amount of privacy.

"We're sure about this? This is nothing we were ever trained for."

"I am. I know we can do this. Together."

"We live dangerous lives."

"Car accidents, cancer- so does everyone. At least we know how to react to emergencies. We'll probably be the safest family in history."

"Fair enough." The woman led them to bump into another couple on the dancefloor. She slipped the computer chip she had just lifted into her husband's breast pocket. "Package acquired."

_"Great work, Widow."_

"You know I don't like that name, _Honey_. It sounds like a threat."

"That's because it is, _Sweetheart_."


	2. Bon Voyage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kudos! Feedback definitely spurs my enthusiasm for writing, so it is much appreciated. Now to the REAL story. Prologues are done and we will be mostly bopping between Wanda and Pietro's point of view. Enjoy!

_Budapest, Hungary, 2015_

"I still don't like it."

" _Apa_ , we're halfway to the airport. I'm holding my ticket. You don't have to _like_ it. This is happening."

"Their security is lax at best. Do you know what they said when I called?"

Wanda Bennet rolled her eyes and pushed her sunglasses further up her sloping nose. She'd handled planning the entire trip herself. After months of research, Wanda had printed off all relevant information and given it to her father for his approval, yet he was still acting like she planned on wandering out into the mountains with nothing but a hairbrush and a can of beans.

"You told me a thousand times, but you can say it again if it will make you feel better."

"It won't," he groused, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He insisted on driving her, even though she barely had any luggage and the metro would have been faster. "But I still think you could have picked a different birthday/Chanukah/graduation present."

"This is the only thing I wanted."

He sighed. The kind he sighed when he was both distressed and delighted with the fact that she was an adult with a mind of her own. "I know, Kid, I know. You get your mind stuck on something and I'll be damned if I can stop you."

"You can't." She glanced over at him and softened. "But if you really don't want me to go, I'd consider it. I just like you that much."

Her father grinned and elbowed her as he drove. "Oh come on, Wanda. I'm not going to stop you from going on this cruise. I know how much it means to you."

" _Köszi_."

"I just need to complain about it for about twenty more minutes. That okay with you, Kid?"

"Lay it on me."

~

_St. Petersburg, Russia, 2015_

"I'm not doing this."

"You are, Pietro. If you are going on this trip, you are going to be safe."

"You're being paranoid."

"Paranoid lives. Now- run through the passport. No looking."

Pietro Rykov dropped his head down onto the breakfast table like a child having a tantrum. "Victor Silin. Moscow. January 16, 1987." He tilted his head up and dropped his chin onto the table's surface. "I don't look 28, _Mama_."

"Nonsense. I passed for mid thirties with children when I was your age."

"Well, not everyone is as extraordinary as you. You're just going to have to learn to live with your embarrassingly average son one of these days."

He hadn't meant it to sound so bitter. His mother was frowning at him the way she did when he surprised her. Nika Rykov sometimes did not realize the pressures she put on those around her. She expected the best, and was honestly confused when someone fell short. Pietro understood this, but it still made for stressful visits home from the university.

"You are not average, Pietro." She spoke with her arms crossed, her auburn brows knit together. "You know you are not."

"Well, that's a relief."

She sighed and sat down across from him, holding out her hands with her palms to the ceiling. Pietro left his head where it was, but took her hands in his.

" _Ja teb'a l'ubl'u, Pietro_."

" _Ja teb'a l'ubl'u, Mama_."

"I do not know everything about parenting. But there's one part I know, and it's how to teach you to protect yourself. So, humor me this once? At least at the airport. You don't have to lie to any attractive Americans you meet. Fair?"

Pietro offered her a smile, knowing she meant every word, since they were such a struggle for her to get out sometimes. "Fair."

~

"That's all you're bringing?"

"Clothes and books, _Apa_ -" Wanda hefted her suitcase onto the scale and nodded to the airport attendant. "What else do I need?"

"Money, passport, photo copies of anything that could be stolen from your person, pocket knife, pepper spray, phone char-"

"Dad."

"Okay, you've got this. It's a cruise ship, not the Amazon. The crew will help you with anything you need." He followed her toward the first security checkpoint, her bookbag slung over his shoulder. "Just another minute. Then you won't have to hear any more from me."

Wanda turned to him just before the start of the roped off line. "No more of that. You'll have plenty of time to dad-out when I get back. I'll have a tattoo, and a lip ring-"

"Not at the same time. One body modification at a time, please."

"Fair." Wanda stood up on her toes to give him a tight hug and inhale the smell of his old leather jacket. "I'll miss you, Dad. Promise."

"I'll miss you more. You'll at least be having fun. Your poor old dad is going to be escorting diplomats all week."

"Horrible." She kissed his cheek hard. " _Szia, Apa._ Be safe."

" _Jó utat kívánok._ Be safe."

~

"This is way too much for just two weeks."

"I know, I know. You could live out of a tube of lipstick for a month." Pietro hitched up his rucksack and propped his elbow on his mother's shoulder. It always made her smile, even when she was trying not to. "I'm high maintenance. It's a character flaw."

"Work on that. You'd save a fortune on hair products."

They were only a few meters from the train station. Pietro could see his mother's eyes scanning the autos on the street as well as the pedestrians. Force of habit. He didn't bother to rib her for it today.

"I'll try, _Mama_."

"Alright, on with you."

They stopped in front of the station for a brief embrace. Pietro's mother was not a fan of physical affection, but she made an effort to show it for his sake. Pietro had learned to appreciate these small gestures he knew she had to force, though he'd likely never tell her.

"Be safe, Pietro."

"Be safe."


	3. Cast Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support! I'm in the process of moving and will be starting up school again soon, but I am going to try to keep the updates coming.  
> Welcome to the Illyria!

The ship was a hectic mess. A few bewildered married couples tried to weave their way through the mess of college students traveling in packs. Wanda found her room with not a little difficulty and collapsed onto the bed. She checked her phone. Years ago, her father had sprung for an unlocked model so that she'd never have an excuse not to keep in contact.

_Shipped off yet?_

_Just now. Stop smothering me._

_You were always an ungrateful child. Have fun, Kid._

She fell asleep almost instantly, fully clothed. Traveling always tired her, and going directly from the plane to the taxi, to the ship had been almost 25 waking hours. She buried her head under the pillow and vowed never to travel again.

~

"Excuse me? Miss?"

The young woman in the ship's crew uniform turned, a cheery, welcoming smile on her pretty face. Pietro swallowed- then pulled up a smirk he hoped was more charming than condescending. It was a hard balance to strike. He didn't always get it right.

"Yes-" Her smile twitched into a more genuine one as she followed her eye-level up to his face. "Can I help you with something?"

Pietro returned the expression honestly _. "Never brush off anyone who is attracted to you. They are almost always more useful than those who are not."_ He tried not to grimace. Sometimes it was hard to turn off his mother's voice in the back of his mind.

"Would you please help me find cabin 24C," he quickly checked her nametag, "Mariah?"

"Oh sure thing! I'm going down to C deck just now. I can take you there!"

"You're too kind, Mariah."

~

Wanda woke after just three hours, her internal clock all a jumble from the jet lag and unfamiliar environment. The boat didn't rock, but there was a certain un-ignorable feeling of motion.

She started to unpack. It seemed silly, to have a dresser for a two week stay, but she put her clothes in the drawers anyway- the way she always arranged them. Bras, underwear, socks and pajamas on bottom, bottoms in the middle, tops in the top. She lined her makeup, jewelry, shoes and hair products up on the surface and hooked the one hat she'd brought over the edge of the mirror. Aside from the dresser and bed, there was an impressive, though not ostentatious television on one wall, a table and chairs, and a couch on the opposite side of the cabin as her bed.

She frowned at the few items that remained in her suitcase. There was no phone charger. She'd already checked her bookbag. She couldn't have forgotten it. That would be completely stupid. Wanda huffed at the nearly empty suitcase. There was a chance she was completely stupid.

Wanda made a face at her things and rolled the suitcase under her dresser before checking her makeup in the mirror. It had miraculously survived the traveling as well as her nap, though it was slightly more smoky around the eyes than it had been in Budapest. She fluffed her hair and grabbed her hat and sunglasses before selecting a book to throw in her bag. She locked the door behind her and set out to discover why she had wanted to be on a cruise by herself so badly in the first place.

~

Pietro grinned at Mariah's phone number scribbled on the back of his hand. His mobile had died on the plane and he hadn't dug through his bag to find his charger yet. He dumped the military surplus pack out on the bed and started sorting through the rolled up clothes and pockets full of toiletries. He put the clothing away first- socks, underwear and swim trunks in the bottom drawer, trousers in the middle, and shirts in the top. Hair product was lined up on top, and his belt was slung over the corner of the mirror.

Still no charger.

He checked the secure compartments of the bag two or three times before throwing a shoe across the room. Typical. He never went anywhere long enough for it to matter that he never remembered the stupid plug and cord. It likely didn't matter. Mariah probably knew where the crew kept a basket of chargers left behind for the use of idiots like him.

Pietro slid his room key into his pocket and went out in search of his new friend.

~

The bartender on deck was completely swamped, even though it was barely noon. The packs of college students were on the hunt for alcohol. Wanda made her way to the front of the throng and finally managed to gain the server's attention.

"One Vesper, please. It's-"

"Another Bond fan, huh?"

Wanda blinked, but smiled. "Get a lot?"

"No- there was just a kid about ten minutes ago. You don't know him?"

She shook her head. "I don't know anyone. I came by myself."

"Well, welcome to the Illyria. Maybe it's fate for the two of you will meet and fall in love."

"I doubt it."

She paid for her drink and went in search of a free lounge chair in the shade. There were only a few- most were placed for optimal tanning. A quick scan showed that only one was empty.

"Do you mind?" She asked the young man on the next chair over. He squinted one eye open. He was tall and broad shouldered, with bleached hair showing at least half an inch of dark roots. Something in her stomach twisted, like she recognized him. But Wanda knew they had never met.

"Please." He was frowning- not unhappily, but almost confused.

Wanda smiled and stretched out on the free chair, pulling her book out. She took a sip of her drink before deciding whether or not to introduce herself.

"I'm Wanda."

He hesitated. He was still giving her an odd look and it took her a moment to realize that she was mirroring it.

"Pietro." He looked like he was chewing the inside of his mouth.

They sat in silence for several minutes. Wanda was sure she had annoyed him with her staring and abrupt introduction.

"I'm sorry, I have stupid question."

"Yes?" She was holding her breath and had no idea why. Though good looking, he was not remarkable to her. His hair choices were a bit perplexing, but he was neither uncommonly beautiful, nor ugly. If she had to guess, it was the way he made her feel as though she was expecting to meet him that was confusing and capturing her.

"What mobile phone do you have?"

Inwardly laughing at her own silliness, she pulled hers out of her pocket to show him.

"It's same as mine!" He said, excitement lifting his voice a full octave. "Can I- I mean, I'm sorry. But would it be alright if I use your charger?"

Wanda grimaced. "I wish I could lend it to you, but I forgot mine at home."

He blinked, then laughed. "Me as well! We are very stupid."

Wanda laughed and raised her glass. He followed suit. It wasn't until the drinks were right next to each other that she noticed.

"Mr. Bond!"

He followed her gaze and laughed as well. "You drink Vespers?"

"Sometimes. But I love sweet drinks."

"Me as well. I just think it makes me look better to order this."

Wanda was giggling. She wasn't normally a giggler. Not that she didn't laugh, but she couldn't seem to stop, now that she and Pietro were talking.

"You're Russian?"

" _Da_. St. Petersberg. You are... not Romanian... I am not good with language and accents..."

"Magyar."

"Your English is very good, I think. Much better than mine."

"My father is American. I learned both growing up."

"My mother speaks thousands of languages. But she gave up trying to teach me others after English. Is enough, I think. To travel."

"Mostly. I hope it will be on our shore time."

"Tourist towns. We'll be fine." He hesitated. "Are you traveling alone?"

Wanda nodded. "You?"

"Yes. None of my friends wanted to." He chewed the inside of his mouth again.  "Do you want to go to meals together? Not giving you the wrong idea-" he winked. "I already have prospects elsewhere. But I'd like the company, Ms. Bond."

Wanda thought about this. "Well, that depends on what your top three Bond films."

Pietro answered easily, though with the grave air of someone who had given it a lot of thought. "Goldfinger for classic, Skyfall for quality, and Licence to Kill for uni-age Benicio del Toro."

Wanda stared. This could not be coincidence. "Can you read minds?"

"Does that mean we can go eat now?"


	4. Cheers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm doing pretty good on these updates! Just to keep you informed, this story is going to be written in four parts. I may take a short break between parts so ensure updates come smoothly during the action. So far I'm just wrapping up Part 2, so hopefully any breaks won't be too long! I really want to finish this one up in a timely manner, since I have a busy fall ahead of me.  
> Thanks for your kudos!

Pietro found himself staring at Wanda, even while he was supposed to be choosing what to order. He couldn't deny that she was pretty, but that wasn't the reason he was unable to look away. He sometimes had trouble with eye-contact, especially with someone he found attractive. He had no trouble looking into the warm hazel eyes of this round-faced Hungarian.

"You said your mother spoke a lot of languages. Is that for work?"

He nodded. "She's an interpreter. U.N. Used to have position in the states, but it was something more involved. She talks little of it. But she worries too much when I travel. Thinks I will be taken hostage to learn secrets."

She laughed, but didn't seem as intrigued or surprised as most people did. Normally people wanted to know all they could about a Russian interpreter who knew U.S. government secrets.

"My dad can be that way too. Used to be a detective in New York. He thinks gangsters he put away will have their friends track me down if I get too near the states."

"And your mother?"

Wanda shook her head. "Never knew her."

"Sorry. I never met my father either."

Her smile was small and quirked to one side. "I guess we've got one decent set between us, don't we?"

"I guess we do."

They ordered their food and the conversation shifted. There were lulls and pauses, but Pietro never felt their silence uncomfortable. He couldn't know for sure, but he thought the feeling was mutual.

"Do you study?"

"Yes. Psychology. In Hungary, not far from home. I'm graduating this coming spring though."

"Me as well. Not Psychology and Hungary, but graduating."

"Studying...?"

"You will not laugh at me?"

"Course not."

"Physical therapy."

She laughed. It was a good laugh. Lower than one would expect from her frame, just like her speaking voice.

"You said you would not laugh! Liar."

"No- not _at_ you. It's just- well, we'll fix everyone, won't we?"

He grinned in response and raised his glass. They had agreed that it would be marginally less embarrassing to order fruity drinks with colorful umbrellas if they did it together. Wanda accepted the toast.

~

Wanda returned to her room after dinner. She said goodnight to Pietro and made her excuses about not having slept. It was a lie and for a second, she thought he knew it. If he did, he didn't say anything.

She needed to think. There was something wrong with how easy it was to talk to Pietro. Her friends at school always told her that she over thought everything- and that she didn't trust her own happiness. They were right, probably. Sometimes it was harder to feel in healthy ways when you studied feelings and the mind. She had turned off her phone hours ago to save the little remaining battery, but all she wanted to do was call her father. She needed real familiarity to give herself a measuring stick for what she felt when she spoke with Pietro. It felt like familiarity, but Wanda was far too realistic to imagine something as whimsical as an immediate connection between people who had never met.

She curled up on the bed and stared at the blank screen of her phone. She didn't know what she needed. Sleep, maybe. Her mind was reeling too much to sleep and she didn't feel tired. Perhaps what was confusing her about her feelings was that she didn't feel uncomfortable or upset with any of it.

Pietro was comfortable. He was comfortable to an extent that should make her uncomfortable, in a stranger. Wanda had told him things about herself that only people she had known for years knew. She had told him that she loved trash pop-punk ever since she was thirteen, that she had thought there was something wrong with her for years until she researched the term "asexual" online, that she had always wondered what her mother was doing at strange times in the day. More often than not,, her confessions were met with his somewhat surprised "me as well!"- aside from the asexuality, to which he enthusiastically informed her that he liked " _everyone_."

Perhaps all that was why he made her feel so strange. Pietro was not familiar because he reminded her of someone that she knew, but because he reminded her of herself.

Wanda turned on her phone and clacked out a quick text to her father.

_Can't find phone charger. Going to look for one with the crew but don't panic if I don't answer for awhile. Having fun no worrying love you bye._

She turned the mobile off before she could get his " _what did I tell you?_ " response.

Wanda curled up into a tighter ball and hugged her pillow to her chest. Pietro had squeezed her hand briefly upon saying good night and she could still feel the warmth in her palm like it was a physical object he had passed to her. Even if it confused her, she'd never _liked_ someone so much.

~

Pietro couldn't sleep. Or- he could, he just didn't want to. All other complex feelings aside, Wanda made him feel _good_ , plain and simple. When they parted ways, Pietro had reached out and squeezed her hand. She'd paused, and for a moment he had thought she was uncomfortable with the contact. But she had smiled and wished him goodnight.

Knowing that it was useless, he took out his phone and flipped it over and over in his hands as he stared at the ceiling. He hoped she wouldn't find it creepy if he asked her to keep getting meals and drinks together. Maybe he should back off.

There was a soft knock at his door. Pietro sat up, grinning. He was glad Wanda didn't seem worried about coming on too strong. It made their growing friendship so much easier to navigate. He opened the door and had to quickly rearrange the tone of his greeting.

"Oh- Mariah!" It certainly wasn't an unpleasant surprise. Pietro tried to arrange his features into a smoother expression, leaning against the doorframe. Contrary to what some may like to think, looking carelessly cool in the face of a very cute brown eyed girl with slightly too big front teeth that only improved her charm was not easy.

"Hello," her smile was shy, but a just the right amount of mischievous. "I just got off my shift. Is it okay that I knocked?"

"Of course. Come in."

She grinned and brought a bottle out from behind her back.

"I asked the right crewman for help."

Mariah giggled and grabbed the front of his shirt to pull him inside after her.

"Sorry if I'm getting ahead of the game, but how do Russians feel about drunk sex?"

"As rule, we feel amazing about drunk sex."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PSA from the author:  
> Here we see Mariah demonstrating the somewhat bold but absolutely necessary practice of confirming consent to sex under the influence before substance use even begins. She knows that alcohol may make Pietro more likely to agree to something he would not be comfortable with sober, so getting his express permission to proceed while his judgement is unimpaired is the ONLY way to get consent. Way to be, Mariah! Party hard but stay safe and communicative, kids.


	5. Coulson Connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really moving now that Wanda and Pietro have met! Can't wait to bring you more!

Pietro had given Wanda his cabin number, since both of their phones were essentially useless. Wanda considered wandering around on her own, but eventually decided that the trip was too short to play silly social games by avoiding the one person on the ship she had a connection with.

She had almost reached the door of cabin 24C when it opened. When she saw that the person stepping out was far too short and curvy to be Pietro, she kept walking.

"Morning. See you tonight?"

Wanda smiled as she passed and heard the unmistakable sound of a kiss. She waited at the end of the hall, staring at the snack machine as though deciding what to choose, until she was sure the girl was gone. She doubled back after a few minutes and rapped on the door.

"Oh good, you forgot your-" Pietro opened the door with a grin and something pink and silky in his hand. "Wanda!"

She laughed as he tried to hide the bra behind his back. "'Other prospects,' huh?"

"Yes-" he agreed, somewhat sheepishly.

"Can I come in? I thought we could get breakfast."

"Of course."

She curled up on his couch while he stepped into the backroom and started brushing his teeth. Wanda tried not to snoop around his room too much, but it was hard.

"Is she nice?"

"She is very nice."

"You don't sound like you're seeing stars."

"Stars?"

Wanda grinned. "Never mind."

She gave up on not being nosy and looked around the room while she waited for him to finish getting ready. She grinned at the hair products lined up on the top of his dresser next to the expensive running shoes.

"You're high maintenance."

"What?"

"All your gel and hairspray. You have more than me."

"You are wearing six rings and five bracelets."

"So?"

"So back off."

She giggled as he came back from the bathroom and changed his shirt.

"You put your shirts in the top drawer."

"Build from ground up- only makes sense."

"Everyone else does it so messed up- underwear on top, pants bottom, shirts middle."

"I know."

"It's stupid."

"So stupid."

Wanda watched him run a pinch of gel through his hair and couldn't bring herself to feel embarrassed by her own staring.

"I hope it's okay that I showed up. You're just the only person I know and, surprise, cruises are kind of boring by yourself."

"It's great," he stuck out a hand to pull her to her feet. "Breakfast?"

After breakfast, they went to the indoor pool for a swim. It was quiet, since most people preferred the one on deck in the hot sun.

"You don't mind being inside?"

"No," Wanda dropped her skirt and shirt near her bag and adjusted the bathing suit underneath. "I burn in half a second."

"Me as well."

She smiled. "You say that a lot."

"We have a lot in common." He tugged off his shirt and grabbed her hand, pulling her at top speed toward the deep end.

"Pietr-"

Wanda plugged her nose just in time. They fell none too gracefully into the water and kicked their way to the surface. Wanda smacked the back of his head and laughed as she swam away.

~

After an hour of playing stupid childish games and tiring themselves out, they settled on floating on their backs in the shallow end of the pool.

"I forgot to ask," Wanda flicked water at him as he floated past. "Did you find us a charger?"

"No. Mariah checked through the ones behind the desk, but none of them fit our brand."

She giggled at him, her nose wrinkling. "Mariah?"

"Back off. She's nice."

"I'm sure she is. But she'd be a lot nicer if she had a charger for us."

"Don't worry about it. I used her phone. My mother wouldn't answer, but I left a message with her friend Phil. He'll be sure she doesn't panic."

She let out a huff of a laugh. "That's funny. My dad's best friend is named Phil. He's always on the phone with him. Complaining about embassy policy and stuff."

He laughed as well and tried to splash her without upsetting his balance on the water. "Same with my mother. 'I know what the Director says! Don't you explain compartmentalization to me, Phil Coulson!"

There was a soft splash. Pietro turned his head, frowning. Wanda had stood up in the shallows, her dark, wet hair stuck to her face.

"What?"

"Your mother has a friend called Phil Coulson?"

"Yes. From work. Back in the states."

He watched her as she turned as quickly as she could in water up to her waist and headed to the stairs.

"Wanda? What's wrong?" Pietro followed her out of the pool and to the lounge chairs where they had left their things. "Wanda?"

"I should go. I have to- go."

Pietro hung back, helpless as she gathered her things and wrapped her towel around her waist. He couldn't have stopped her if he'd tried. The look of confusion and worry on her face had paralyzed him completely.

~

Wanda paced her room, holding her phone in a shaking hand for almost an hour. She needed to talk to her father- and to Phil- but she needed time. Time she did not have with 2% battery. But she couldn't wait either. She needed to explain and apologize to Pietro, but she couldn't until she either confirmed or disproved what she was already starting to accept as the truth.

Her heart was pounding as she turned the phone on.

"Wanda- your father said your phone was-"

"I don't have much battery left, but I need to talk to you."

"What's wrong." He was in action mode. If she didn't stop him he'd scramble the jets.

"I'm safe. But I have to talk to you and- and I'd really hope you'd not tell Dad."

"Wanda, this isn't making me feel any better. What's going on?"

Wanda twisted her bracelets. "Where is my mother?"

"Your mother died in childbirth, Wanda. You know tha-"

"Not that one, Phil. I meant Dad's wife. You know where she is. Are you in contact with her?" Her heart was pounding. She didn't think she could handle it if he lied. She didn't even know if it would be a lie. What she was thinking was completely insane, she shouldn't even be asking.

"Wanda..."

"I don't have much battery. Can you please just tell me where she is?"

A pause. "She's in Europe."

Wanda was starting to feel light-headed. "Where?"

"Russia. Wanda- what is this about?"

She could hear rushing in her ears, almost louder than his voice. Almost. Her breath was coming short and fast.

"Phil, I met Pietro."

"Phil? Phil?" she checked the screen of her phone and let out a yell of frustration. It had died.

~

Pietro got a drink from the bar on deck and tried his best to fill his time. Wanda was right- being alone on a cruise was terrible. He still didn't know why he had thought it was a good idea in the first place.

He returned to his room and tried to watch television for almost an hour. He was starting to feel sick in his stomach. Wanda was one of the few people he had ever met that he felt comfortable talking seriously with. He had a hard time being serious when it came to interpersonal relationships sometimes, something he and his mother actually had in common. His friends mostly didn't notice, but almost any relationship he had had ended because his partner discovered that he was incapable of communicating effectively outside of jokes and emotional outbursts. Finally, he'd met another human being he could joke with but still speak to like a rational adult, and he'd upset her somehow.

He'd almost fallen asleep when there was a knock at his door. Pietro got up- and checked the peephole this time.

"Wanda! Hello. Um, what happened earl-"

"Pietro were you adopted?" she breezed past him to pace the room, wringing her hands.

He blinked, watching her. "Yes. How did-"

"From where?"

"Um, Sokovia- it is a small old Soviet bloc cou-"

"Between Ukraine and Hungary. I know. It's where I was adopted from."

She had a strange look in her eyes, shining and feverish. She was staring at him like she was waiting for something. She had stopped pacing and now just stood, staring and chewing the inside of her mouth.

"That is... strange."

"It is strange. You know what else is strange, Pietro? Us. Being alone on this cruise. Why did we think this was a good idea? Neither of us like spending too much time in the sun, we get anxious in crowds, and we don't speak Spanish or Portuguese!"

He tried to keep up, but she was getting more and more excited again, shaking her hands at him as though trying to make him understand something he should have gotten by now.

"What is your point?"

"My point?" She threw up her hands, staring at him with her wide, lively eyes. "Pietro, when is your birthday?"

"October 30th."

"1992."

"So?"

"Pietro, your door was ope-"

Pietro turned just in time to see Mariah's face fall. His stomach followed. It was easy to see what this looked like. Him, Wanda. His room, her red bikini.

"Oh."

"Mariah- Can I just-"

"It's okay-" the blond looked so embarrassed, Pietro felt as guilty as if he had actually deceived her. "I- I didn't have illusions or anything. I just kind of misunderstoo-"

"You didn't- this isn't- Can I talk to you outside?"

"Um, that's alright, Pietro. It's fine, really. I'll just-"

Before he could think of anything else to say, she was gone, the door clicking behind her. Pietro pinched the bridge of his nose and rounded on Wanda.

"You couldn't have helped?"

She didn't look in the least bit sheepish.

"You can explain to her later, because right now-"

"Explain what? What am I going to say that she'll believe?"

Wanda twisted her hands a moment longer before starting to chew on her thumbnail. "Maybe that you were a little distracted when you found out you had a twin?"

"A twi-" he'd gotten halfway to protesting when he noticed his own thumbnail between his teeth. "That is- that is ridiculous." he finished lamely, dropping his hand hastily to his side.

"Almost as ridiculous as my father's best friend being Phil Coulson. Or that we have the same top three Bond movies. Or that my birthday is also October 30th, 1992. Or that we were both adopted from Sokovia of all places. Or-"

"We're..." he blinked at her, trying to process what she was saying. He felt numb- or rather- the feeling after feeling numb. He felt like when a foot fell asleep and then all the blood rushed back into it at once. "Wanda- we-"

"We are-" her voice was cracking and he could see she was visibly shaking. "I know it, Pietro. We-"

He let out a yell at last, the feeling of the truth rushing through every inch of his skin. Pietro wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the floor to spin her around. They were laughing so hard it took them some time to notice that they were also crying into each other's chlorine soaked hair.


	6. Tempest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Officially moving my posting days from Sunday to Friday! My kudos and bookmarks for this story both doubled just from shifting the day two back. I really appreciate the support, as it keeps me excited about the project and writing steadily to know that people are enjoying this silly little thing.  
> This chapter marks the end of Part 1. I was going to take a break between parts, but since I have your attention and since I'm already starting writing Part 3, I think I'll just try to keep one part ahead of you guys and keep the posting consistent. Who knows- If I finish up early, I might start posting twice a week! ;)

Pietro came with her to her room to change, not wanting to be separated after their discovery. They ordered room service, making one another guess what they would pick and eventually just deciding to switch dishes. They compared notes on music, food, children's cartoons, pet peeves and favorite qualities in others. Most of the time, their choices matched, or were at least compatible.

Once their food came, they found Casino Royale on the television and dug in, talking over most of the film and through their food.

" _Apa_ hates Bond movies."

" _Mama_ too. Says 'in real world,' he'd be dead in an instant. He doesn't even use aliases."

"And he's always so conspicuous. Everyone remembers the guy that makes too much eye contact and steals their woman."

Pietro frowned. "How would they know how spies are supposed to act?" He nudged her knee. "Wanda, maybe our parents are spies."

She laughed and hit his shoulder. "Don't be stupid."

"Fine. But if we find out I'm right, you owe me. You have too.... change your hair. So we match."

Wanda snorted and wrinkled her nose. "Deal. But it'll never happen. Dad would be the worst spy in the world." She twirled some pasta around her fork. "He'd order pizza and give away his position on a stakeout."

"How old were you when he told you you were adopted?" He speared three shrimp at once.

"He didn't. I asked when I was seven. We don't look anything like one another."

"What did he say?"

"Just kinda blinked and said yes." She slurped an oyster, not bothering to be polite when he was speaking around his shrimp. "What about you?"

"She never tried to pretend. I always knew."

Wanda nodded. She wasn't sure what she thought of the image she was building of her father's wife in her mind. Pietro spoke of her fondly, if exasperatedly, the way one should speak of one's parents. But every detail he listed for her made the woman sound little else but cold.

Pietro was looking at her, slowing his eating.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She finished her food and moved the dishes back to the room service tray on the table. She could feel his eyes on her. The trouble with someone who could read her so clearly is that it was impossible to brush them off.

"Looks like a problem something," he moved his dishes as well. "What is it?"

She sat back on the bed with him, facing one another. "What's Mother like?"

"She is-" he started, then paused, clearly considering what he was going to tell her. "She is a beautiful professional. She is very bad with emotion. But-" he pulled his phone out and started turning it over in his hands. "She's funny. She won't show it to just anyone- but she is a silly nerd sometimes. She loves comic books. Has embarrassing collection and whenever she has bad week, she holes up in her bedroom and reads favorite issues and drinks wine and eats expensive ice cream."

Wanda giggled and grabbed his hand, feeling a warm rush of relief at hearing the more endearing details.

"Does she ever talk about _Apa_?"

His face fell. "No, but I try. All I know is they met in Budapest."

Wanda blinked, feeling her stomach clench. "They met-"

"You didn't know that?"

She shook her head. "So... she was the one who left us?"

He frowned and picked at the bed covers. "I don't know. I don't think they lived there ever. She does not know where he is now, I think."

"He doesn't either- know where you and Mother are, I mean. I think he always thought you were still in the states."

"So he was the one who left?"

Wanda heard how accusatory it sounded, once she was the one listening instead of speaking. She looked down at their linked hands.

"Maybe it was mutual?"

"Each taking one twin?"

It did sound disturbing, once stated out loud. What kind of parents would rather separate their own children and lie to them their whole lives than be the "loser" in a divorce?

"I guess."

The silence was uncomfortable now. Not due to one another, but due to their changing perceptions of the only family they had ever known.

"So go on," he was bringing his tone up on purpose and Wanda was grateful. "What is our father like?"

Wanda smiled. "He is much an American living in Europe. Still says ' _Budapessssssst_.' Everything he's not used to- even after all these years- ruffles his feathers. Doesn't understand politics. But he does his job and cares so much about doing it right." She laughed and shook her head. "But, Pietro- he can be so _lazy_. He works so hard, but when he has time off, he won't do anything with it. Just sits around and orders food to be delivered. He won't even get up when it arrives- makes me go to the door to pay. I don't know what he does when I'm away at school. Probably tapes the money to the door with a note saying to bring the food inside."

Pietro snorted. "I can see why Mama looks the way she does when I ask about him. Is he handsome?"

"In a wild west kind of way."

"Does he talk about her ever?"

"I push him," she assured. "But more when I was younger. He'd only say she was stubborn, that's all." She looked down. She felt she could tell Pietro anything, but some of it was still hard not to be embarrassed about.

"What?"

"When I was little, I used to think that if I could just find her, I could make them get back together."

"I still think about it, some days."

Wanda was starting to feel heavy and tired. To say that it had been an emotional day was far too much of an understatement to even state out loud. She began to tip to the side and Pietro instantly followed until they were on a level once more, lying on their sides, face to face, their clasped hands between them.

"I always felt-" she was whispering now, and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes again. It was no small comfort to see Pietro's eyes shining as well- or that his face got much blotchier than hers when he cried. "I always felt like I missed someone. I thought it was Mother, but-"

"Me as well."

~

The wind had started howling halfway through their movie, but they hadn't noticed. They'd both started to drift off when the boat began pitching beyond anything they had felt so far.

"Wanda?" There were shouts and noises of confusion all around- people calling out to friends and family over the sounds of the storm. "Are you awake?"

Her eyes snapped open as the boat rocked even more violently. They sat up together, trying to regain their bearings.

"Pietro-" she rubbed her eyes, smearing her makeup even further than it had been by her tears. "I'm sure it's nothing. People just panic."

Pietro nodded in agreement, but got up anyway, heading for the door. There were more shouts and even a few screams from down the hall. The sound of pounding feet was mingling with the thunder of the storm and howling wind.

"Sounds like something though."

"Yeah," she followed him to where he was looking out the peephole. "Move over."

He moved back to let her look and crossed his arms, chewing his thumbnail. He had to steady himself on the wall when the next shuddering wave hit the boat.

"Damn..." Wanda murmured. "Come on."

"Wanda- wait!" He followed her out the door, but pulled her back as a group of girls ran past, shouting to one another. "Where are you going?"

"To find a crewman. I want to know what's happening."

"But it's just a storm-"

"What if there are emergency procedures? Do we need to stay in the cabins or is there a gathering place? We have to find out. Come on!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him through the mass of people.

Pietro swallowed, feeling more and more claustrophobic with each panicked face they passed. Everyone seemed to be looking for someone, whether it be loved ones or crew that would give them information.

"Wanda-" he knew he was squeezing her hand too hard, but he couldn't seem to loosen his grip.

"It's okay, Pietro. Just follow me."

She could weave her way through the crowd easily with her tiny frame, and people moved out of their way as she dragged his much larger body through the little spaces she made.

"Ladies and gentlemen-"

Everyone shuffled awkwardly to a stop as the speakers crackled to life.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. We ask that passengers proceed to the main dining hall where our crew members will provide life vests and further instruction."

"Life vests?!"

The announcement only caused more panic as people began to rush toward the dining hall. Pietro did his best to block the more violent pushers from getting near Wanda, but she still stumbled and almost fell. He gripped her by the shoulders to steady her. The dining hall was already packed when they arrived. Crewmembers lined the walls with megaphones, passing out life vests to clamoring passengers.

"Please form lines at the vest stations!"

"Remain calm- please. There are plenty of life vests for everyone!"

They found a line and took a place to wait. Pietro didn't notice he was shivering until Wanda touched his arm.

"You're trembling."

"I'm not."

"You are-" she squeezed his hand and wrapped her arms around him, speaking as close to his ear as she could. "We're not alone anymore. We're going to be fine, Brother. I promise."

He returned the embrace and kissed the side of her head.

"Stay with me, alright? I don't want-" he struggled with even saying aloud the thoughts that were making his throat close up. That he couldn't lose her now that they had found each other. He needn't have tried though, as she was nodding into his shoulder.

The boat pitched again and people began to scream.

" _Please_ \- we ask you to remain calm!"

Pietro set his feet more firmly and blocked the pressing crowd from jostling Wanda. He gripped the back of her NYPD training t-shirt. She could feel her hands grabbing at his shirt as well.

"Next!"

Wanda pulled away, but took his hand again to approach the table. The crewmember handed them their vests, then gestured them closer. Pietro followed Wanda as she leaned in.

"We need everyone to stay calm," the young man's eyes were darting and there was a thin layer of sweat all over his face. "But the situation is serious. They are readying lifeboats for a full evacuation. I want people to be prepared, if they can keep calm."

Pietro swallowed. Wanda squeezed his hand and nodded to everything the crewman told them.

"Thank you for telling us. Where should we be?"

"That end of the room. They'll be taking people out in small groups so as to not cause more panic."

Wanda nodded and pulled him toward the side of the room the crewman had indicated.

"Pietro?"

"We're going to be okay, Wanda," his mouth was dry, but he could feel her starting to shake, pressed up against his arm. "We will get on a boat and-"

"This way please!"

The crowd around them started to jostle and shove. Pietro wrapped his arm around Wanda, trying to block anyone from knocking her down. The crewmembers were leading the knot of people they were in out towards the deck. Pietro slipped off his jogging jacket and dropped it over Wanda's shoulders.

"I'm not going to let you die of hyper- hippo-"

"Hypothermia?"

"Hypothermia. I'd feel terrible. And then I could never face Dad."

She laughed- a weak, half-hearted sound. "What about you? I'm not telling mother you died because you were worried about me."

"I'll be fine. But you are like a tiny bird. Strong breeze could take you away."

She punched him, but her smile was more genuine as she pushed her arms into the sleeves.

Pietro had been joking about the wind, but they both stumbled and had to brace themselves against the storm as they stepped out onto the deck. Many people started to scream and hold onto one another as they stepped out. Wanda and Pietro leaned against one another, trying to keep from slipping on the slick deck as the rain pelted them from all sides.

"This way please!" A crewman with a megaphone was gesturing toward one side of the ship.

The boat pitched and they both lost their balance. Pietro heard Wanda scream as he hit the ground. She'd slipped out of his grip, and the last thing he thought of before his vision went black was how there was no way she could stay upright without him.


	7. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2:  
> Wanda gets a haircut and Pietro's life becomes the kind of bad romcom he definitely has never watched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the start of Part 2! Little bit of a time jump, or else I'd be writing this story into next year. I'm hoping to finish up the actual writing of it by October.  
> Also a bit of a note: I realize that Pietro's fluency in English fluctuates WILDLY throughout my dialogue writing. Unfortunately, you are about to get some more of that, as we are introduced to some secondary characters who speak little English. Um- sorry? Realism is not this fic's strong point. And you get more terrible google translations, so apologies to anyone who speaks Portuguese or Hungarian.  
> Thank you for all your support! Like I said before, feedback really does keep me excited and writing fun things for you all to enjoy, so keep it coming!

Pietro refused the wheelchair when the plane landed. He couldn't understand anyone, but that was hardly new since his fall on the deck of the ship. He'd improved since he first woke in the Brazilian hospital, but his mind still slipped in and out of his control.

He pushed anyone's hands away that tried to help. They were speaking in calming, reassuring voices- the kind people use with wild animals.

" _N_ _e aggódj."_

"I can walk-" he jerked his arm out of the hold of the attendent trying to lead him around.

" _Angol most?"_

They led him through security, dealing with all the paperwork and communication for him. The attendents either stared at him with suspicion or smiled with sympathy. He must look like a mess. People were staring- or trying not to stare. He must be weaving and stumbling like a drunk at this point. He hadn't stood up for longer than a few minutes since he was hospitalized.

"I need to talk to Wanda. And my mother."

The assistant leading him around spoke in a soothing voice again, but he didn't understand a word. Pietro wondered if it was possible for a concussion to get worse with time.

"What do you mean- _son_?"

 _That_ he heard loud and clear.

"Don't give me that- I'm here to pick up my daughter!"

" _Sajnálom. Kérjük, megnyugodni, Bennet_ _úr_."

There was a string of curses at the arrivals desk. A stocky man with short hair was arguing animatedly with the desk attendent. He seemed to be struggling between several languages in his agitation and Pietro could only understand a few words. "Kid" seemed the most commonly repeated, closely followed by "incompetant" and "my _ass_."

" _Itt az apád."_ The attendant at his arm smiled expectantly at Pietro as she spoke, as though waiting for some kind of response. When he only stared, she attempted a phrase of heavily accented English. "Look- your father."

"My father?"

The man turned from the desk as Pietro spoke, a grim scowl fixed to his heavy features. He gave Pietro a once over that could kill, then turned back to the desk attendent, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

"That's _not_ my kid."

~

"Caesar- Caesar?"

Wanda turned over and fought off the stubborn tendrils of sleep. It was hard, when the loudest thing she could hear was the ocean waves rolling against the sand.

"Caesar-" a hand tugged at her hair. "Wake. _Manhã_."

She sat up, realizing at last why she was so warm.

"Vision- I'm sorry. _Sinto muito_. I fell asleep on you again." She always said it, as though it wasn't getting to be a habit. He smiled and shook his head, indicating that he didn't mind, as always.

It had been three weeks since the storm. Wanda didn't remember much of the ship or the lifeboat after Pietro fell. All she knew as that she had seen blood and started screaming. Then someone had dragged her into one of the lifeboats. She may have kicked them. She didn't remember falling out of the lifeboat or swimming, but she must have, because she woke on the shore in the early morning, surrounded by debri. She'd wandered into the nearby town in search of some official building where someone might speak English. But every street she turned down seemed seedier than the last. After a man tried to grab her arm and pull her into an apartment building, she'd slipped into a drugstore and stolen a pair of scissors. Glad she was wearing a maximum compression sports bra and her loose pajamas, she had cut off her hair and left the bathroom she had hid in with a deliberately aggressive gait.

Less frightening characters eyed her once her femininity was toned down. She still couldn't find anyone who spoke English though. Celio had found her curled up in a doorway in an alley. They'd tried to communicate with one another, but eventually gave up and Celio gestured for her to follow him. Lacking other options, she had let him lead her to the warehouse. Wanda had pulled back when she saw junkies hanging around the stairwell, but he had shook his head and pulled her wrist toward the basement. After a lot of pointing and gestures, she was introduced to the whole group of boys living there. Davi knew a handful of English phrases and had assured "Caesar" that they were "safe."

They were good boys- teenagers and young men, really. Some of them had jobs. Celio worked in the produce market and Davi played an old chipped guitar for change near a small park. Wanda started collecting bottles to return, as it was the only job that didn't require much speaking. She'd gone to the police station, but there was no way to get help with the language barrier. She had tried to explain to Davi, but he hadn't been able to think of anything useful or even truly understand what had happened to her.

Wanda didn't know what her plan was. She was trying to save money, but food and toilettries took all the money she made at the recycle center. If she could just get into a bigger city with a bit of tourism, she could get to the proper people to get her home. But there was no way. Not without help.

That's when they had introduced her to Vision. His name wasn't really Vision- it was Orsen. But no one called him that. The other boys all used the online handle he went by on message boards and programming forums. He spoke more English than any of the other boys, but that didn't mean much. He tried though, and she was grateful for the effort he put into helping her with such little reward.

Wanda was more than grateful, if she was being perfectly honest. She liked Vision. She liked his company, his small, honest smiles, his solid warmth next to her on the cramped, moth eaten mattress in the warehouse basement. They stayed up late, talking- or trying to talk. After a certain time of night, he didn't like to walk back through the city to wherever it was he slept. The first night, he'd tried to insist on sleeping on the floor. But in a moment of desperation and lonliness, Wanda had indicated that he could share her mattress. Now it had become something of a routine. When he came to the warehouse, they would spend their time together, communicating what they could, or just sitting quietly as they ate or read. Wanda's Portuguese was improving, along with Vision's English. If she was being perfectly honest again, Wanda would admit the prospect was a bittersweet one.

Better communication meant she could find a way home. It meant she could see her father- and find out what happened to Pietro. Her stomach ached when she thought of her father frantically trying to find out what happened to her, and of Pietro lying bleeding somewhere in a hospital. But it also meant she would likely never see Vision and the other boys again. She needed to go home. She needed to see her father. She just wished that didn't mean leaving her new friends.

Vision reached out a thumb to touch the space between her eyebrows. She must have been frowning.

"Nothing. Thinking."

He shrugged and gestured toward the door. "Walk?"

Wanda nodded enthusiastically and let him help her to her feet.

"So light, Caesar."

Wanda tried to smile at his gentle teasing. All other complications aside, there was always _that_.

~

There was nearly three hours of heated shouting and arguing between the man and customs. Pietro waited for them to finish, not knowing what other options he had. He sat in a chair they had provided for him outside the customs office where the row took place, wincing as each new shout spurred on the beginnings of a splitting headache.

"How could this happen? Where is my daughter?"

"We're sorry, Mr. Bennet. There was a translation error of some kind. The Portugal office said he said something about 'Magyar,' so they checked the records and found your contact information. This young man still needs a place to stay until we can find out where he's from-"

"Well why don't you ask him? He can talk, can't he?"

"He has a severe concussion. He's having trouble with his languages."

"Of course he is."

Pietro scowled at the opposite wall, crossing his arms. He felt like when he was a child when he had to wait for his mother to finish talking with his teachers about him after he got in a fight with the other boys at school.

"Mr. Bennet, I'm sure your daughter is alright. There have been no reports of anything more serious than this young man's concussion. It's just a bit of a mix-up. But, in the mean time-"

"No- I'm not having some strange kid stay in my house! What kind of official policy is this? 'Oops- sorry! Sent you the wrong loved one! Here, take this invalid instead, will you? We don't even know his name.'"

"I am not invalid."

The official and the American continued arguing as though they hadn't heard him.

"Look, Mr. Bennet, the _moment_ we receive any word on your daughter, we will let you know. But this young man has been through quite the ordeal, and I'm sure he'd much rather be home with his family. The hospitals won't take him- he was discharged in Portugal. We can't just put him up in a hotel. He needs someone to keep an eye on him- to communicate- and let us know if he remembers-"

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"I'll do it. He can stay with me until you people figure this whole mess out."

"Oh."

Pietro listened while they made the arrangements, his mind slipping in and out of attention. He was surprised he understood as much as he did. Since his concussion, he'd had trouble with English, and could only mentally translate for a short time before his focus shut down. Add in all the Portuguese and now Magyar around him, and he could hardly see straight, let alone think.

Right in the middle of his frustrated internal monologue, the door next to him burst open.

"You ready?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I've never had a concussion or any head injury, so I'm basing Pietro's difficulties on my own experience traveling while severely sleep deprived.


	8. Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your support, Team! I'll be the first to admit right now: I'm not so good with the romance? But since I am basing much of the plot off of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, I thought I owed it to the bard. I sort of only just realized that some of the plot points of this story might seem kind of crazy if you're not up on your Shakespeare or haven't seen The Parent Trap. So- sorry. But I'd highly recommend both to you. And you probably knew this story was ridiculous when you first clicked on it.

"It's nice out," Wanda was bad enough at small talk when she spoke the same language as the person she was with. She usually didn't try with Vision, his silence was almost as comfortable as Pietro's. But today she was stalling. It was a defensive tactic. If the conversation never started, she still had control over the outcome.

"Yes. Almost August."

She nodded and shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of the baggy blue jeans he had brought her when he noticed she had been wearing the same flannel pajama pants for a week.

"Vision..." she stared down at the cracked sidewalk. "I need to go home."

He was quiet for a minute. "You need money?"

"No- I-" she rushed to defend herself. She couldn't have him think that she was trying to take advantage of their friendship to get money. She coudln't bear the thought. "I'm not asking you for money, I just-"

"I have money."

Wanda blinked. "Oh. Okay. But what I need is maybe the police?"

He hesitated and Wanda tried to think of a better way to explain. Their communication was sometimes difficult. She often had to rephrase things several times before he caught the jist of her meaning.

"Can't here. Next town."

Wanda frowned. "Why?"

" _Protestos_. Don't like me."

"Oh." She nodded and didn't push the issue. They walked in silence for awhile. After a few minutes, Vision hesitantly grabbed her hand. Wanda blinked, but didn't pull away. She tried not to think of Pietro and the blood streaming down his face in the rain.

"I will miss you, Caesar."

"I'll miss you too, Vision."

A tug on her hand almost made her stumble, but she turned just in time to catch the nervous look in Vision's eyes.

"Vision? What-"

He kissed her. Not deeply or forcibly, but light and tentative. Wanda didn't know how to respond. She couldn't say that it wasn't a pleasant kiss. Of the ones she had had in her life, it was easily the best. But her face was burning hot and her stomach was twisting in what felt like panic.

"I am sorry-" Vision pulled away and turned completely around, hands shoved in his pockets as though he were trying to look non-chalant. "I-"

"It's alright." Wanda followed him a few steps, though hesitantly. "I just- um-"

"You are not gay." He nodded, thinking he understood.

"...No. I'm not."

"I'm sorry. I hope-"

"It's okay, really," she tried to smile and elbow him in attempts to bring their tone back up. "It was a nice kiss, Vision."

He laughed, a quiet and rare sound. "Thank you. I think so too."

~

The carride from the airport was nearly a silent one. Pietro didn't bother asking why someone in the city insisted on driving himself everywhere. Americans. They arrived at a small, if respectable house in a middle class part of town after only twenty minutes.

"They say your English is shot," Bennet said gruffly as he let Pietro inside. "I'm not one for babysitting, so to be honest, I'd rather you just kept to yourself and got anything you need from the fridge. If you feel like letting me know who you are and where you're from, I'll call the embassy. But other than that, you're on your own, alright punk?"

"You live in 80s movie? No one says 'punk.'"

The man scowled and dropped is keys on the counter. "Your English sounds just fine to me. Sound Russian- but who the hell can guess with you Slavs. Feel like telling me who you are so you can get outta here?"

Pietro bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn't give his real name. The name used in all the ship's registration was different. He just couldn't remember what it was. That or the name his mother used for official business.

" _K sozhaleniyu , ne pomnyu."_

The man's scowl was evidently permanent, but it could still deepen by degrees.

"I think you do _pomnyu_ , you're just being difficult. Typical Russian."

" _Vashe proiznosheniye eto uzhasno_."

"Because I don't speak Russian."

Pietro returned his scowl. "You're understanding just fine."

"And you speak English just fine when you want to. This will probably work best if we just don't speak at all," he opened the fridge and pulled out a package of deli meat and cheese. He shoved them, along with a loaf of bread, across the counter towards him.

"Gilligan's Island."

The man looked up, an odd expression on his face. "What?"

"We draw a line across your house?" Pietro shrugged and started making a sandwich. "Means you're the angry Skipper."

"Means you're the idiot himself."

~

Vision explained to the other boys once they returned to the warehouse. They listened in what seemed to be awe before erupting into questions and exclamations once he was finished. Wanda blinked, powerless, until they managed to organize themselves enough to ask Vision for help translating one question at a time.

"How did you come here, if you have home?"

"A ship? A boat. For vacation. There was a storm."

"Were you hurt?"

"No but-" she hesitated, trying to decide where her compulsion to lie came from. "But my sister was."

"Is your sister okay?"

"I don't- I don't know."

They all cried out in sympathy and patted her back in the bracing way that young men did when they weren't sure if it was socially acceptable to hug.

"We're sure she's okay," Vision said, touching her shoulder. "She is home. With parents."

Wanda smiled and squeezed his hand. " _Obrigado_."

"What is her name?"

"Wanda."

"Is she-" Vision paused, clearly trying not to laugh. "They want to know if she is very beautiful."

Wanda laughed and shrugged. "I dunno. She looks a lot like me."

They all squinted at her, joking back and forth skeptically whether this was a good or bad thing. Wanda faked haughty offense, turning to leave. They all converged on her at once, throwing aside their masculine aversion to affection to hug her and presumably beg her to stay. At last Davi asked something that sobered them all.

"When are you leaving?"

Wanda glanced at Vision, unsure.

He nodded curtly. "Tomorrow."

She wanted to kiss him again. She might have if the other boys weren't around. She was still considering the option when Celio's hug hit her with almost enough force to knock her over. The others followed, pressing her hands and mussing her hair.

"They will all miss you very much."

~

After a few hours of sleep, Pietro felt much better. He could focus enough to look over the guestroom he had slept in now. It was more than a little sparse when it came to useful items and furniture, but there were signs of personal touches everywhere. The dresser was clearly handmade, with scratches and initials carved into one bottom corner. "GB" or "CB," he couldn't tell, and "WB." Paintings clearly made by a young child lined the walls. A talented child, but one with an obsession with Halloween and possibly Tim Burton. Pietro brushed his teeth with a packaged brush from a lumpy, handmade clay pot by the sink in the cramped bathroom. Evidently, Mr. Bennet's kid was a better painter than sculptor.

He wandered down the stairs to the kitchen and rifled around in the cupboards for cereal. There was a series of thuds on the stairs.

"Morning, old man."

Bennet seemed incapable of real speech and only growled vaguely at him. He looked terrible. Pietro looked at the clock. It was barely past five.

"Got to work? What do you do?"

He didn't respond. Instead he started a pot of coffee and shoved a hand into a bag of granola.

"That's disgusting." Pietro continued talking more out of a desire to actually do something than to communicate. "Were you raised in circus?"

Bennet continued to ignore him as he pulled the pot off the coffee maker and took a long gulp.

"You are terrible. Just terrible."

Pietro watched him drink the whole pot between fistfulls of granola. Then, the older man went back upstairs without a word and returned only fifteen minutes later, showered, shaved and in a sharp black suit. Pietro whistled.

"Not bad, old man."

"Shut up." Bennet grabbed a Tupperware from the fridge and headed out the door.

"Are you an escort?"

Bennet flipped him off as he closed the door behind him. Pietro laughed through his cereal.

~

They woke up before the sun in the morning. Wanda didn't even have to offer for Vision to stay the night before. She'd never thought about it before, but there was something nice about hanging onto someone as she slept. She wanted desperately to talk to Pietro about it- to ask him if that was part of the draw to sexual relationships, or if she was alone in thinking this had to be the best part of sleeping with someone. _This_ she could certainly get used to.

She wanted to talk to Pietro about everything. She wanted to introduce him to Vision- to get his opinion. She trusted him more than herself to read the sideways looks and small smiles her new friend gave her. This kind of thing usually filled her stomach with a sense of dread. More than one friendship in her life had ended in hurt feelings and awkward situations because someone had been attracted to her in a way she could not reciprocate. But she didn't mind Vision looking at her lips or playing with her hair while they talked.

Then again, asexuality was hard enough to explain to people who spoke the same language as her. After the initial discussion with her father, she had printed off article after article and left them with his briefcase to take to work. Halfway through a day of distracted worrying, she'd received a single text.

_Mostly what I'm getting is we're not worried about pregnancy scares?_

It had been the best reaction she got and she was relieved he hadn't tried to tell her she was too young to know what she was talking about, the way that some of her friends had. In time, she had gotten more comfortable in explaining to anyone who asked, but never had so much been at stake.

"Caesar? Awake?"

She nodded into his shoulder. It was time to go.


	9. Der'mo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again! As always- thank you for your kudos and don't be shy with your questions or concerns! This chapter introduces a new character that you may or may not be familiar with. While "Vision" in Brazil is meant to represent both the Marvel character and Duke Orsino from Twelfth Night, Antonio in Budapest does not have a Marvel counterpart. I just always feel bad that Antonio gets shunted of to the side by Sebastian, so I wanted to give him some love here. I suppose you could "insert fave ship here" if you like, though. :)

Bennet didn't come home until the evening, calling into question just what kind of job required a bespoke suit for nearly fourteen hours. He brought takeaway with him and left a container of mei fun and coconut shrimp on the counter, presumably for Pietro.

"Have you heard anything about your daughter yet?"

The look he got in return was deadly enough to shut even Pietro's mouth momentarily.

"Sorry. I am sure she's fine." When he still didn't get a response, Pietro changed back to his former tactics. "So you have long day at the bordello?"

"Leave off," Bennet shoveled egg noodles and pork into his mouth at an alarming rate. "You didn't touch anything, did you?"

"No."

He'd watched movies for most of the day. Bennet had an impressive collection of science fiction and horror movies. He'd worked his way through all the Hannibal lector films, even _Manhunter_ and _Hannibal Rising_ , l before moving on to _The Wrath of Khan_. Granted, he'd also rifled through the bookshelf, kitchen, and bathroom cabinets. He hadn't gone into the bedrooms though. It had felt too invasive.

"I don't believe you."

"Shocked."

"Think you wanna tell me your name now?"

Pietro scowled. He still couldn't remember the name on his passport. He'd always suspected that his mother was exaggerating when she said releasing their real names to foreign authorities was an international security risk, but now did not feel like the right time to test that theory.

"Will Graham."

"I don't believe you."

"Too bad. FBI will be missing me."

Bennet groaned and continued stuffing his face. Pietro smirked and tucked in himself.

"You have clothes I can borrow?"

Bennet blinked at him as if he had grown an extra head. Pietro had to concentrate hard to be sure he was speaking English. He may have slipped again.

"What?"

"Clothes," he was definitely speaking English. "I only have these from the wreck." He gestured down at his torn Henley and ragged sweatpants. "Can't wash same clothes every day."

Bennet looked like the request for a pair of boxers was the greatest inconvenience in the world. He grunted vaguely as he finished his food and retreated upstairs.

When Pietro finished his food, he followed, intending to go straight to the guestroom. But there was a crack of light under Bennet's door and the wood was very thin. Pietro didn't mean to eavesdrop. It was just so very quiet in the house.

"I know. I know. Just- No! I'm not calling her. And don't you either. They think she's fine, alright? ...Well of course I would if it were him, but you know what? I can't. We agreed. ...Yeah? Well how is he? Have you seen them lately? Well maybe just call. But don't say anything about- No. No I don't want you flying out- Where? Oh- Essen? Well that's not all that far off I guess... yeah, alright go ahead and come. Thanks."

Pietro hastily continued on to the guest room, just in case Bennet left his room after the phone conversation.

~

Wanda curled up against Vision's shoulder on the bus to the city on the other side of the bay. After a last goodbye to the boys, they had left the warehouse- hopefully for the last time, in Wanda's case.

"How far?"

"Three hours on bus."

Wanda linked an arm in his. "Good."

He shifted, and for a moment, Wanda thought he was pulling away. But he was just getting something from his pocket.

"Caesar- here."

She took the scrap of paper he passed her. On it was listed, in an almost typeface precise hand, all of his contact information under the heading of his full name. Wanda smiled.

"Thank you, Orsen Duke."

"You are welcome, Caesar..."

She didn't know why she continued to lie, but she did. "Pietro."

"Caesar Pietro. It is- it is no problem, help you. I like to be with you."

Wanda swallowed, embarrassed by the lump rising up in her throat. "Me too. I don't- I don't want to never see you again. I will contact you. As soon as I get home."

"I am glad." He tipped his head to rest on hers. "Most friends online. It is nice. There is Google translate."

Wanda laughed. She was going to miss the way he could make such simple things sound so funny.

"I am sorry I could not help sooner."

"Don't- I didn't ask."

"But-"

"I- I want to go home. But I think I would have asked sooner if I hadn't liked you so much. My father- he must be so worried. I should have tried to- to contact him sooner. I mean- tried harder-"

"You do not speak Portuguese. You could not say what needed."

Wanda buried herself further into his side. He was right, or course. Her guilt was fairly unreasonable. If she was her own patient, she would tell her that she was not responsible for righting her own misfortunes the "right" way. But her stomach was still in knots, thinking of what her father must be going through. And Pietro. She didn't even know for sure if he was alive- although something deep in her gut said she would know if she had lost him for good. She thought that she would know even if he had died before they met.

"Thank you, Vision. I don't know what I would do if I didn't have you."

"Kayak, maybe?"

~

Pietro slept in later this time. When he finally did wake up, he almost tripped on the plastic shopping bags outside the guestroom door. There was a pack of socks, boxers, several different sizes of jeans, workout clothes, t-shirts, and a shockingly expensive pair of running shoes under a scribbled note.

_Leave receipts with stuff you don't want._

_Cost a lot._

Pietro rolled his eyes, but changed immediately, more than a little pleased with Bennet's practical but reasonably fashionable choices. He was feeling much better. So much better that his head no longer spun when he stood up for too long. Slipping on his new shoes, he propped the back door open and explored the back garden. There was a patch of spices with popscicle stick labels. They looked like they hadn't been tended beyond watering in weeks. The grass was neatly mowed though. Pietro stepped around the house to the gate and started out onto the street. It was still early enough to be quiet. Pietro took a deep breath and started jogging.

He liked running. It was clean and simple and lasted just as long as you wanted. He'd tried track sports during school, but found the competitions exhausting. He didn't want to prove himself or train- Pietro just wanted to run. To let his mind wander with every muscle in his body engaged in something it knew how to do naturally. Wanda would likely have something to say about why he liked running. There was probably some deep-seated childhood trauma behind it. He grit his teeth and pushed harder, ignoring the throbbing in his head.

He half thought he'd dreamed the whole meeting when he'd been knocked unconscious. Wanda and their entire discovery, seemed like a bizarre, if wonderful, figment of his imagination. He had tried to ask about her in the hospital. He supposed that was when he had said something about Hungarians. All he wanted was to know that she was safe. He couldn't bear the thought of her in a hospital like him, or struggling to swim in the choppy ocean-

Maybe he shouldn't have ignored his pounding head. The dawn street around him was starting to go fuzzy.

" _Vot der'mo_."

~

At the police station, Vision spoke quickly with the officers on duty. After a long, fidgeting wait in a plastic chair in the front of the station, Wanda was called into what looked like an interrogation room with just a table and two chairs. Vision stayed outside, but had given her an encouraging smile.

"Caesar? I'm Captain Belo. Your friend Orsen says you're in a bit of trouble?"

Wanda froze at hearing fluent English for the first time in nearly a month. Before she knew it, she was sobbing as she explained everything. About Pietro- though not the whole story, the wreck, her real name, about how she was trying to pass as male for her safety, about how much her father must be worried. Captain Belo was taken aback but sympathetic, offering her a pack of tissues and a cup of cheap tea.

"I'm sorry."

"It is perfectly alright, Miss Bennet. You've been through a horrible ordeal."

She nodded in what must have been a very pathetic sort of way. "I cut my hair. It looks terrible. I haven't cut my hair since I was thirteen."

He laughed incredulously. "That... must have been difficult for you. But now that we know what happened, we can get a start on getting you home. I'll go send some of this paperwork off to get the ball rolling at the embassy. Should I send in your friend? And a phone?"

Wanda nodded enthusiastically and tried not to start crying again.

"Um- Captain? Could you... Not tell Vi- Orson? That I'm a woman? I don't want him to be offended that I lied. It should probably come from me."

The captain nodded with a smile. "I understand."

~

" _Jól vagy? Szüksége van a kórházban?_ "

Pietro groaned and tried to open his eyes, but the light was too bright.

"Bennet?"

" _Bennet úr? Tudja Bennet úr_?"

Pietro groaned again. The person was definitely speaking Hungarian. Which would make sense, considering he had passed out on a residential street in the Buda side of Budapest. Maybe his faculties were improving, if not his judgment. He squinted his eyes open more carefully this time.

"Hey."

The young man leaning over him blinked. "Hey."

Pietro tried to sit up and almost knocked heads with the stranger. "Sorry- I-"

"Oh- English. Okay."

Pietro nodded, then wavered, the world spinning with the head motion. He almost fell back again, but there was a firm steadying hand on his shoulder.

"We need to- um- get you lying down, I think."

"I am."

"On a couch. Or a bed-"

"That sounds nice."

"Just off the street. Here-" the man ducked under his arm. "Can you try to-"

"Uh-huh..."

The world tilted and spun, but they somehow managed to get his feet under him. The stranger was more help for balance, as he didn't actually provide that much support for Pietro's larger frame.

"Now- you said something about Bennet? Do you want to go to his house?"

"Uh-huh. Sure."

They somehow made it back to Bennet's house and Pietro tried to sum up the articulation to explain about the propped open back door. But the stranger reached into the mailbox by the door and pulled out a spare key. He awkwardly opened the door and shuffled them both inside.

"We did it..." Pietro's head was still spinning and his tongue felt heavy.

The stranger laughed and helped him onto the couch. "You sound very pathetic. Do you want water?"

"Yes. That is good idea. Water."

Pietro tipped his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. It was mercifully cool and dark inside the house. The room stopped spinning if he kept his eyes closed and focused hard enough. Pietro felt a glass being pressed into his hand.

"Thank you."

He cracked an eye open to take a sip- and to sneak a look at his new friend. He had dark eyes and better hair than anyone ought to have in the early morning. He also had the exact combination of strong jaw and baby face that spelled a huge problem, in Pietro's experience.

"Here-" the stranger took Pietro's free hand and laid it out on the couch between them. It was only when he started cleaning his palm with a washcloth that Pietro realized he had scraped the heels of his hands when he fell.

"Are you going to nurse me back to health?"

"I'm- I'm not a nurse."

"Oh. Never mind. It's funny if you- just- never mind."

The other man smiled, though somewhat uncertainly. "I'm Antonio. I live down the street."

"I am Pietro. I am long story."

Antonio laughed again as he cleaned the gravel from the scrapes. "Well, you seem okay. It's hot out. Maybe you should drink more water before you run."

"Is not that- I have concussion."

Antonio blinked, frowning. "A wha-"

Pietro brushed back his hair to show him the stitches just shy of his temple.

"What?!" Antonio jumped up to get a closer look. "You need a doctor? I can call a doctor. Does Bennet know you're hurt?"

"I'm fine-" Pietro assured him, grinning at his panic. It was very endearing panic. "I just should not run. It was a bad idea. I have a lot of bad ideas."

"Oh..." Antonio sat down and started cleaning Pietro's scrapes again, sitting a carefully distance from him on the couch. "Well, yes. Don't run anymore. At least not for awhile."

Pietro couldn't help but smile. "Is that an order?"

"Oh- no. I'm sorry. My English is not very-"

"I was teasing. Flirting."

"Oh. _Oh_." The flush creeping across his face was very fetching.

Pietro thought maybe he should wait until the room stopped spinning before he did this, but that felt like a concern for another day as he leaned in to kiss him. The phone rang.

" _Der'mo_."


	10. Phonecall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Another chapter, and this one marks the end of Part 2! Thanks for sticking with the twins this long! I'm just starting the last part of this fic right now, so hopefully I will be able to post once per week without pauses until the very end.  
> Part 3 deviates somewhat from the Twelfth Night plot and begins to wander closer to the Parent Trap side of things, so if you were waiting for that to kick in, you're in luck!

The Captain left and sent in Vision, who was smiling uncertainly at her tear-stained face.

"I am sorry you not like Brazil so much."

She laughed and blew her nose. "Brazil is lovely, Vision. Someday I will come back. For pleasure. Not because a storm ruined my vacation and separated me from my family."

"That was... not good."

"Yes," she agreed. "Not good."

Wanda stared at her hands so that she wouldn't have to look him in the eye as she broke the silence again.

"I'm... I'm sorry that I didn't kiss you back yesterday."

"Is okay. Is not your fault." He hesitated. Wanda tried to read his expression but couldn't figure out exactly what he was feeling. She usually had an easier time interpreting people's feelings, but Vision was more difficult than the average person. "But you do not mind that I sleep in bed with you?"

"I like that," she threw aside her inhibitions and grabbed his hand. "It is hard to explain. Sort of complicated."

"I do not know means 'complicated.'"

"It means..." she chose her words carefully. "Hard to say. But mostly it means me."

"Oh. Is not so bad then."

Wanda laughed. Even if it was not the full conversation, she felt a knot untie in her stomach.

"You are okay?"

She tried to clean her face off with a tissue before nodding to his tentative smile.

"Thank you. Thank you _so_ much, Vision. I don't- I don't know how much you understand, but if there's anything you ever need- I'll- I'll sell my soul or something."

"No understand, but-" he sat in the only other chair in the room, moving it closer to hers. "Glad you are okay?"

"Yes-" she laughed and blew her nose. "I'm okay. And I'm glad too. They're going to get me a phone to call my father."

"That is good."

"It is."

The captain was back with a cordless phone and a list of foreign extensions.

"Thank you."

Her hands were shaking as she dialed the home number. Her father couldn't answer his cell while he was working and she had lost track of what time zone she was in. It rang almost five whole times before it was picked up.

"Uh- Bennet? Bennet uh- _ház_?"

Wanda frowned. " _Ki ez?"_

"Sorry- I don't speak any-"

"Pietro!?"

~

"Are you-" Antonio swallowed, eyes still wide and fixed on Pietro's mouth. "Are you going to answer that?"

"What? No. I don't live here."

"Neither do I."

Pietro reached for his jaw, very distracted by just how amazing the curve of Antonio's lips were, even when he was frowning.

"It's fine. Bennet has mobile, doesn't he?"

Antonio ducked away from his hand and got off the couch, crossing to the landline on the kitchen wall.

"Miss Bennet is missing. What if it is about her?"

Pietro sighed, tipping his head back against the couch and closing his eyes again.

"Okay, but come back soo-"

A tap on his shoulder made him crack an eye open. Antonio was tapping him with the handset.

"What? I don't spe-"

Antonio shook his head furiously. Pietro sighed. The things he did for a pretty face.

"Fine. How do you say 'house'?"

" _Ház._ Answer!"

"So bossy." Pietro tore his gaze away from Antonio's very cute blush to press the 'talk' button. "Uh- Bennet _ház_."

" _Ki ez?"_

"Uh- I'm sorry, I don't speak-"

"Pietro?!"

He nearly dropped the phone as he launched himself to his feet- then swayed violently and fell back down, spluttering uncontrollably. "Wanda!? What-"

"Pietro- You're alive- I-"

"Yes-" he was crying already. He was vaguely aware of Antonio staring and backing away slowly, but it didn't seem to matter. "Are you safe? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Are-"

"I'm so happy you're-"

"What are you doi-"

"I thought you might be-"

"Pietro!"

"Sorry-" he laughed through his tears. "I'm sorry. I just-"

"Pietro- what are you doing at my house?"

Pietro blinked.

"What?"

~

Vision was probably a little terrified at her yelling and sobbing. Wanda tried to summon up the energy to care, but all she could focus on was the voice on the other end of the line.

"You- you're Bennet's daughter?"

"You're with Apa?"

"Bennet is-"

"Yes!"

There was a long pause. Wanda could hear the plastic casing of the phone creak and crackle in her hands.

"We've done nothing but bitch at each other."

Wanda laughed and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

"That doesn't surprise me. You didn't know?"

"No- I- I had concussion. I think I ask about you at hospital and they sent me to your house. Where are you? You're still missing, as far as Benn-" he hesitated, clearly unsure what to call her father now that he knew the truth. "Father is aware."

"What are you going to tell him?"

Another long pause.

"Nothing."

Wanda blinked. "What?"

"Don't you want to meet Mama?"

"Pietro, I think your concussion is acting up."

"No- listen-" he was sounding increasingly excited. "I can stay with Father. To spend time with him and get to know each other. You tell the police you need to go to Russia to meet your family. You can stay with mother. After we have time to know them, we will tell the truth. Tell them we want to meet. All four of us. Together."

"You sound insane," she mumbled faintly. But she could not deny that her stomach lurched at the thought of meeting her father's wife. It was all she had ever wanted. She'd dreamed of it since she was a little girl. She'd planned ever word she would say to her. And, really, it was only fair. Pietro was getting to spend plenty of time with Dad.

"I'm in."

It was almost an hour before they finally managed to hang up. Wanda was shaking, no longer from fear or nerves, but from a manic excitement like none she had ever felt before. She pressed her cold hands to her burning face, trying to collect herself.

"Caesar?"

She opened her eyes and pulled up a smile of reassurance.

"Vision- I'm so sorry."

"Is okay. You are okay?"

"Yes-" she laughed, her veins now thrumming with purpose. "Will you bring me to the drugstore? I need some hair products."

~

"Are you... okay?"

Pietro smiled and shook his head, rubbing his hands down his face. He couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed for crying and effectively losing his mind in front of Antonio. When it was clear the tears were happy and not a sign of another emergency, he had tactfully left the room. Now he stood in the hall near the stairs, looking beyond uncertain and confused.

"I'm sorry, Antonio. I bet you're regretting rescuing me."

"Not really."

Pietro's grin widened. "Good."

"Was that Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, it was." He chewed the inside of his mouth. "Antonio? Would you not tell Bennet my name?"

Antonio frowned, but nodded. "Yes, I suppose."

"And... can you not tell him that Miss Bennet called?"

Antonio's frowned deepened. "But-"

"I know he is worried. But it is very long story. Wanda and I- we want to surprise Bennet."

"Can we tell him she is safe?"

Pietro thought about this. It was only right. Bennet didn't deserve the sick worry he knew the man must be feeling.

"Yes. But let me think of how, okay? We don't want to... ruin the surprise."

Antonio might have said something else but Pietro wasn't listening to him. He was listening to a familiar voice. A voice he would have been ecstatic to hear just over an hour ago.

"They're both out of the country. I couldn't tell her even if I wanted to. Her cover is too deep."

"I guess I believe you," Bennet sounded like he was on his way to the living room, accompanied by Phil Coulson.

Pietro froze, trying desperately to think of a way out. Just as Bennet rounded the corner, he grabbed Antonio and spun him into the line of sight from the hall.

"What-"

Pietro had greatly over estimated how heavy the other man was. Or maybe he was just still far too dizzy to be doing anything too quickly. In any case, it was an effective move, even if it resulted in the pair of them tumbling to the carpet with a thud.

"Uh-" Antonio tried to hastily lift himself off of Pietro, blushing furiously as he tried to extract his knee from where it had slid between his thighs. "I'm sorr-"

Pietro hastily covered his mouth with the hand that wasn't pinned between their stomachs. Antonio's eyes widened, but he stayed still.

"Did you hear that?"

"Probably my house-guest. Ignore him or- try to."

"Well, I contacted the Embassy in Brazil. They've still got a couple of passengers to sort out at the hospital. Minor injuries only. It's all hard, since no one has their passports or IDs."

"It's been weeks! And they sent-"

"Well, it seems like after one mistake, they're being a little more careful."

"Least they could do is give my kid a phone."

"I tend to agree, but I'm sure she's safe. Wanda's a tough kid. I'm sure she's giving them hell on her end as we speak."

"Yeah, I know. Just let me know the second any of your people get word of her."

"No problem. Until she's home safe, Wanda's my number one priority."

"Good man. Now go ahead out back. I'm going to call the kid that mows the lawn and grab us some beers."

"Sounds good."

Antonio's eyes widened and flicked towards the coffee table where Pietro had set down the phone.

"Damn Russian... where the hell did he... there."

Bennet rounded the couch seconds later. Pietro craned his neck to see over Antonio's shoulder.

"Hey- Bennet. I... I met your neighbor."

Bennet blinked and turned straight around, muttering something about never having this problem with _his_ kid.


	11. To Russia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3: The twins get to know their parents. Through psychoanalysis and scotch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little early this week because it's my birthday on Saturday so I have plans all weekend and might not have time to myself for awhile!  
> Sooooooo- Time for Part 3! Thank you all so much for your kudos, comments and bookmarks. Means a lot and keeps me excited to bring you more. :)  
> I realize this middle section of the story gets really "talking heads"y for awhile, so I'm doing my best to try to give it some surprises and interesting moments of introspection from our favorite twins.

Wanda followed the traffic from the baggage area to the arrivals gate. She didn't have any bags to pick up- just the clothes on her back and the note from Vision in her pocket- but she waited to follow the other travelers, just in case. She couldn't read a single bit of Cyrillic on the signs, and she didn't want to end up on the wrong side of Russian customs.

She ran a hand through her hair, dry and brittle from the bleach. The second she got home, she was buying a wig. She looked terrible with short hair. Not that it mattered. Not that she'd thought all her life about what she would wear and how she would do her hair and makeup to meet her mother. Not that she wanted to look nice when she met the woman who sat down with her father and chose to raise her. Then changed her mind.

No. She was not going into this meeting with those thoughts. She wanted to love Pietro's mother as much as she did her father. She had waited her whole life for this meeting, and she was not going to ruin it with a negative attitude.

Wanda stepped out into the arrivals gate with the rest of the plane's passengers and felt her stomach twist. Families and loved ones were lined up at the gate with flowers and signs. Wanda searched for a woman matching Pietro's description.

Her knees grew weak when she caught sight of bright red curls. There. That had to be her. They made eye contact for a moment and a frown twisted the woman's full lips. Wanda swallowed and approached her.

"Zdravstvuy, Mama."

The woman winced at Wanda's fumbling accent and proceeded in English.

"My son has played some very ridiculous jokes on me in his life. But this..." she gestured to Wanda's white-bleached hair and disheveled, too-big clothes, "is by far the strangest."

~

Pietro successfully avoided coming in contact with Phil for his first visit. There were near misses, but with Antonio's help he remained out of sight for almost two days. Antonio was still suspicious and perplexed when it came to the secrecy, but he was unusually loyal and showed up every day with some excuse of yard work that needed doing. Bennet wasn't fooled, but he seemed to think it was only for a want to see Pietro.

Bennet. If he noticed a change in Pietro's attitude towards him, he did not say so. Not that they'd stopped bickering. Pietro didn't think there was anyone he didn't snap and argue with- except Wanda. But he caught himself staring and making notes of little details of Bennet's personality when he hadn't bothered to care before.

He had learned that Bennet did not speak before noon exactly. He kept irregular enough hours for Pietro to test this at different times. He learned that Bennet was a crack shot with the dart board in the living room. Sometimes the board was not required. He'd nearly jumped out of his skin the first time Bennet had let a dart sail and it brushed the tip of his nose before embedding itself in the wall. Bennet had laughed, all through Pietro's cursing. He had a sense of humor, if a bad one. He watched 80s movies and sang along to American music in the shed out in the back garden. Pietro watched from the window some evenings. Bennet would leave the door of the shed open as he hammered and sanded at things that hadn't taken their shape yet. Pietro thought the hobby was more out of a desire to occupy himself and stop thinking about his missing daughter than an actual desire to make anything.

He'd told Bennet that the phone call was from a Brazilian hospital. He'd fumbled for a convoluted story about the caller not having good enough English to leave a proper number or explain anything in detail. But the imaginary hospital administrator had informed him that Wanda Bennet was safe, but had suffered a mild concussion. Bennet was furious that he hadn't been there to take the call, and for once, it seemed, he did not take his frustrations out on Pietro.

Pietro felt sick about the deception, worse than he'd originally thought he would. It was one thing when he and Wanda made their plans over the phone, but to see the set mask Bennet's face fell into when Pietro told him the tall tale was another. He'd have to come clean soon.

He sighed, leaning his face against the cool glass of the living room window. He was never good at secrets.

"Pietro- what in hell's name are you doing here?!"

~

Nika Rykov strode off out of the airport, indicating Wanda should follow with a wave of her hand. Lacking other options, and more than a little upset at not eliciting a bigger reaction, Wanda followed.

"You're trusting."

"I'm not," the woman replied coolly as she strode down the street. "But if you are out to wrong me or my son I'd rather dispose of you in the comfort and privacy of my own home."

"That sounds fair." Wanda was nearly panting, just trying to keep up. The woman was shorter than her, but her stride was long and quick. "But I'm not here to hurt you."

"Lucky for you."

Wanda tried to keep up, partially to keep from getting lost in the street traffic, partially to get a better look at her companion. Pietro hadn't been biased when he called her beautiful. But her soft, fair features were twisted into a hard, set expression.

"Are we close?"

Nika turned off the sidewalk and into the lobby of an apartment building.

"This is nice."

It was not as nice as she had expected. She could tell from Nika's clothes and manicured nails that she was well off. But the apartment building was suited more for singles of lower middle class than an established woman with an adult son. Nika led the way to the cramped elevator and pressed the button for the tenth floor.

"The weather here is nicer than I expected." Wanda's mouth was dry. Almost two decades of planning... and she was talking about the weather.

"You are Hungarian. But your English is more than fluent. How much schooling do you have?"

"I have one year at University left. You're good at placing accents."

"I travel. For work."

"Pietro says you are a translator."

Nika gave her a sideways look. "So you really do know him."

"I do."

Nika led the way out of the elevator and down the hall to her door. Wanda followed her inside and didn't bother trying to hide her prying gaze as she took in the flat. It was cramped. Neat, but somewhat cluttered. Every inch of space seemed in use. Time saving electronics and appliances were everywhere- Wanda almost stepped on a roomba as she wandered a few steps inside.

"It's small."

"Don't need it any bigger. I'm rarely home, and my son only stays here a few weeks out of the year." Nika dropped her keys on the counter. "Are you his lover?"

She hardly glanced back to read Wanda's twisted expression.

"Good. I knew I'd raised him better that to send you here alone, if that were the case. You won't just tell me who you are?"

"No. You should know."

"Well if you're not here for harm and you're not Pietro's lover, I don't know what other business you could possibly have with me."

"That probably says something about you."

The older woman gave her a look. _"A look and a half,"_ her father would say. Wanda swallowed. " _She won't hurt you,_ " Pietro had said, _"probably."_

"There's only two rooms. Since you and my son are so close, you can take his."

~

"Phil!" Pietro twisted around in the window seat to face the man, pulling up a winning smile to meet to look of shock and horror he was receiving. "How... how are you?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" It would have been funny, in any other situation, the way Phil's face couldn't decide if it wanted to drain or flush. "Does your mother know-"

"She doesn't-" before he could stop himself, Pietro's temper had boiled up through his throat and out of his mouth. "And neither does my father."

Phil's face finally decided on going pure white. "Your-"

"My sister, however," Pietro stood and crossed his arms so he could look down on Phil from his superior height. "She knows exactly where I am."

Phil went even paler, if that was possible. His lip was sweating. In time, Pietro would feel sorry for putting his oldest friend in this position, but for now, his pounding blood won out.

"Pietro... I..."

"Do you remember when I was ten?" His jaw as clenched hard enough to crack. "And I told you I always, always felt alone? That making friends didn't feel like enough and I felt like someone was supposed to be there and they weren't?"

"Pietro-"

"What did you tell me?"

Phil had his lips pressed together and his eyes were hard.

"Nothing."

"Nothing! You didn't tell me anything! I was ten! You could have told me tooth fairy was my friend!" He was shouting now. "You didn't even bother to lie to me, Phil!"

"It wasn't my call!"

"Your call? This isn't work- this is my life! Mine and Wanda's!"

"It wasn't my place to tell you!"

"It was wrong to keep it from us!"

Phil took a deep breath through his nose, staring back at him, glare for glare. When he spoke, it was in a much quieter voice.

"How did you find her?"

Pietro tried to slow his own breathing to calm down.

"Chance. You remember the trip I was taking?"

Phil closed his eyes and groaned.

"It was her cruise... What are the od-" He stopped, his eyes snapping open. "The wreck- Bennet said you had a con-"

"I'm fine-" Pietro showed him his stitches. "I fell on deck during storm. Wanda, she-"

"Is she alrigh-"

"She is fine," Pietro let his eyes go hard. "She is with my mother, by now."

Phil groaned again and started pacing.

"I'll kill the both of you. I will. What kind of air-headed stunt-"

"What kind of parents split up twins?"

He looked down. "I'm sorry, Pietro. I never liked it. But I promised them I wouldn't interfere in their agreement."

"It was shit agreement."

"Yes, it was." Phil sighed. "Will you sit? You're swaying."

"I'm not," Pietro argued, but sat, running a hand through his hair. "You won't tell him, will you?"

Phil frowned and sat next to him. "Well, the promise I made was not to interfere. So... I guess as long as you and Wanda are both safe..." he shrugged. "I stay out of it."

Pietro smiled and slapped Phil's shoulder. "Thank you. And... If there's any way you could let Bennet know that Wanda is safe without actually telling-"

"I'll handle it."

"You always do."


	12. Psychology Students and Distractions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of talky-talk this week. And again I remind you all that I make no claims as to my skills with the romance. You've been warned.  
> Once again, thank you for all your support!

Wanda curled up in Pietro's bed, hugging one of his four pillows to her chest. She hadn't noticed that he had a particular smell until she was surrounded by it. She wanted to talk to him. To ask him how to break through her mother's hard outer shell. But it was too risky to try to call when Nika was in the house. She closed her eyes and tried to quiet her thoughts enough to sleep.

Really, Pietro was likely having similar problems with her father. She knew he could be difficult. They all could.

She wanted to see Vision too. After the call with Pietro, she explained to him that things had gotten a little more complicated than expected and that she may not be able to call him for awhile. He'd said he understood but seemed concerned. Neither of them had known how to say goodbye, so Wanda had just squeezed his hand and told him she would call.

There was a sharp knock on the door.

"Yes?"

"Hungry?"

Wanda blinked her eyes open. "Yes."

It was the first time she had thought about her stomach in... hours? Days? But now the thought of food made her dizzy, even lying down. She put on a zippered sweatshirt thrown over a chair and returned to the main living area. Nika was at the stove, stirring something, while a small rice cooker bubbled on the counter. She barely glanced up, but Wanda saw her eyes pause a moment on the sweatshirt.

"Do you eat meat?"

"Yes."

"Good."

She salted whatever she was cooking and took out a pair of plates and glasses. Wanda watched her, endlessly fascinated by her short and efficient, but still graceful movements.

"Do you have family? Loved ones who know you're such a long way from home?"

Wanda swallowed. Nika might be a mind reader.

"They're alright. They know I'm safe."

"But not where you are."

She could read the words between the ones Wanda spoke like they were written in the air. There was something unnatural about her. Too... _good_. Not too kind, but too good at _being_. Smart, capable and controlled. Wanda was more intimidated than enthralled.

"No. Not where I am. My father would be so angry if he knew I was here."

"You're an adult, aren't you? You're entitled to travel."

"Yes, but he'd be upset about me coming here, to Russia." She shrugged at Nika's frown. "He's an American."

"And your mother?"

"I never knew her. But my brother did," she played a finger along the edge of her empty plate. "He says she was very beautiful."

"Most children who lose parents idealize their image."

"Absent parents can't disappoint us."

Nika gave her a thoughtful look. It almost looked like a smile, if Wanda squinted.

"Psychology student."

"Another good guess."

"I rarely guess."

The rice cooker clicked off and Nika took a moment to serve up a bed of rice onto each plate. Wanda watched her finish the dish on the stove and lay the meat and sauce over their rice.

"Thank you." She stirred her food around for a moment, helping it cool. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"It really seems like you can't be stopped when it comes to speech. The subject of the conversation really doesn't make much difference to me."

Wanda raised a dry eyebrow. Conversations with Nika must be exhausting. "Is that a yes?"

"I suppose."

Wanda took a deep breath and loaded her fork before speaking. "What happened to Pietro's father?"

She shoved the food in her mouth quickly to give herself something to focus on while Nika processed the question. It was good. Some kind of thick sauce and beef.

"I wouldn't know. Pietro was adopted."

"You adopted him alone then?"

"No. I was married at the time."

Wanda took another bite, but chewed more quickly this time. "What happened?"

"It ended."

"So he's still... out there? And he doesn't want to know him?"

Nika continued to find things to do, cleaning up after her cooking rather than sitting at the tall bar to eat her own meal.

"Do you and Pietro talk about this a lot?"

"It's most of what we talk about."

Nika gave her an odd look, but continued putting away her cooking supplies. "I'm sure he would like to meet Pietro. But we had an agreement. No contact."

"He must have been pretty awful-"

"No." Nika scrubbed at the pan in the sink for a few moments of silence, clearly not having meant to speak so quickly. "He was a good man. And a good father."

Wanda tried to stop herself from staring and returned to her food. She nodded when Nika passed her a glass of water and drank greedily to drown the lump in her throat.

~

"Why do you have to keep so many secrets from Bennet?"

Pietro looked up from the ice cream in his bowl at Antonio's frown. Bennet and Phil were out, on official or personal business, they didn't say. It was the first time Pietro had been alone with Antonio since Wanda's phone call, and there was a hint of tension that would not disperse. Pietro knew it was wishful thinking to imagine it was _all_ of a sexual variety.

"It is very long story."

"You keep saying that," Antonio stirred his dessert slowly, not meeting Pietro's eyes. "We have time, don't we?"

Pietro shoved more ice cream into his mouth, then winced as his healing concussion mixed with the brain freeze. He heard Antonio give an exasperated groan.

"Don't eat so fast!" Antonio rounded the counter in a few strides. "You should know this."

"I'm a slow learner." Pietro closed his eyes tight, waiting for the sharp, cold pain to pass. After a moment, tentative and gentle fingers started rubbing his temples, careful to avoid the stitches. "That feels nice."

"I know what you are doing. You change the subject so you don't have to lie."

Antonio removed his hands and Pietro opened his eyes sheepishly to see his crossed arms and slight frown.

"Is it really so horrible?"

"No- I promise. Is nothing bad. It is just very..." He trailed off, unsure of what he meant to say.

It didn't feel right to tell anyone before Bennet or his mother. That he had a sister- a twin. Phil was different. That had come out of necessity. He wanted to tell Antonio everything, but for now, he only shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Antonio. I'll explain everything soon, alright? Before I-" he stopped himself. Before he left. "Mess things up too badly."

Antonio nodded. "I do not understand, but... okay. You made your plans with Miss Bennet. She is reasonable, even if you are not."

Pietro feigned a look of shock and hurt. "You are so mean to me, Antonio."

He grinned. "I am sorry. How can I make it up to you?"

"Oh, I don't know-" Pietro reached out to play with the collar of his shirt.

Antonio leaned in for the kiss and let his arms fall over Pietro's shoulders. He was hesitant, but eager the more Pietro hummed into his mouth. Still seated, Pietro had to grow accustomed to the new kissing angle. He was more used to bending down, rather than craning up.

"I think..." Antonio muttered when they paused for a moment. "You are changing the subject again."

"Uh-huh-" Pietro agreed as he leaned forward to chase his lips. "You taste like mint."

"Well-" Antonio leaned further back and reached for his bowl. He pushed it into Pietro's chest until he took it. "Have your own. Then you can tell me how you met Miss Bennet."

Pietro pouted, but took a spoonful of the ice cream anyway. "On holiday. We took same boat vacation."

Antonio nodded and slipped away from where Pietro's legs still framed his hips. "You sounded very happy to hear from her."

"I was. We were separated, and... I had been very worried about her. I was just very happy she is safe."

"You care very much for her."

"I do," he buried his face in the bowl to fish out the last of the melted cream. "Did you know her growing up?"

"Some. I moved here with my grandparents from Florence when I was twelve. Miss Bennet helped me with my Magyar- then my English."

"She is very good teacher."

"Demanding, sometimes," Antonio laughed and leaned against the counter. "She was a few years older than me. I was so scared of her. I thought she was a witch."

Pietro nearly choked. "A witch?" He raised his eyebrows, grinning. It was hard to imagine Wanda being frightening to anyone.

Antonio was blushing, but still smiling. "She was pale and had long dark hair and grew all kinds of strange herbs in her garden! And have you ever seen her angry?"

"No."

"It. Is. Horrible."

Pietro only laughed harder, but he sobered after a moment. "You say- she is older than you?"

Antonio read his look and hastily explained. "Not that much! Two years. Feels like a lot when you are twelve."

Pietro grinned and nodded, more than a little relieved. "Good."

"You thought I was too young for you."

"Maybe. For just one second." He set the bowl back on the counter. "But we are fine to continue then, aren't we?"

"I do not know," he stepped closer again and brushed at Pietro's hair. "I may be too young to handle grey hair."

"It is not grey!"

"Oh, okay."

He grinned while Pietro kissed him again, this time letting his hands smooth around his waist and slip up the back of his shirt. Pietro was just about to suggest that they move upstairs- or at least to the couch- when the front door clattered open.

"Really? In my kitchen?"

Antonio nearly jumped out of his skin and scrambled to put distance between them. Pietro grinned and grabbed his wrist, keeping him from going too far. As Bennet passed through to the stairs, Pietro called over his shoulder.

"Hey old man- you have any condoms?"

Antonio hit him.

~

Nika was gone when Wanda woke up in the morning. Her heart pounding, she immediately searched for a landline. She didn't fine one, but in a kitchen drawer, she found a burner with at least twenty new sim cards.

"Mother is so paranoid..." she muttered. "I'm sorry, Pietro."

She didn't know what she planned to do if her father answered, but she installed the new sim card and turned the phone on anyway. Her hands were shaking as she dialed her home number.

"Hello?"

"Pietro- are you alone?"

"Um..."

"Is Apa there?" She frowned, poised to hang up just in case.

"No. He's not."

Wanda frowned. "What's wrong? Why do you sound weird?"

"No reason! Are you with-"

"Yes. I-" she felt like she was going to cry already. "I'm here. Mother is wonderful, but-"

"In intimidating kind of way?"

"Yes!" She laughed, feeling better to hear him confirm what she thought, as always. She wandered the living area as she spoke, smiling. "That is it exactly. What am I supposed to say to her, Pietro?"

"Anything, really. She raised me, she's used to strange."

"I guess," she pressed her lips together. "I... I want her to like me, Pietro. I don't- I'm not sure she does."

"Me neither, sometimes."

His voice was quiet. Wanda sat at the counter, her chest aching.

"Pietro-"

"No, listen- She's- she's bad at showing she cares. But she does. She's just not so good with feelings. She won't lie, not right out. Just try to have honest conversation with her."

"Easier said than done," she smiled ruefully. "Thank you, Pietro. How is _Apa_?"

"He's..." Pietro hesitated. "Worried about you. He wants you home."

Wanda's stomach twisted with guilt. "I'm- I'm sorry, Pietro. It must be hard to talk to him when he's anxious.

"A little. Haven't been talking to him so much, actually."

There was something about the way he said it that made her frown. "Him. But you've been talking to someone else?"

Another pause.

"Don't be mad."

"Pietro, what did you do?"

"Phil came here."

"What?!" Wanda rocketed from her seat, clutching the phone desperately. "Has he seen you? He could ruin _everything_ -"

"It's alright, Wanda! It's fine! He will help us keep the secret. But he thinks we are crazy."

Wanda sat back down, trying to calm her breathing. "So no change then."

"Not really. He's not happy, but he is Phil. He will help wherever he can. And..."

"And?" Wanda knew she had only known him for two days and two phone calls, but this hesitancy was not like him. "And what, Pietro? What's wrong?"

"I may... be in relationship with your neighbor." He rushed to explain, his words coming in a tangled tumble. "He is- we are- not dating, I think. We haven't gone out, but I faint on the street and he was there and you call and I didn't know what to tell so I say nothing but he is kind and trusting and we kiss in your kitchen and Father saw and so I guess there is something between us-"

"...You kissed Mr. Hipsagk? He's 86 years old."

"What? No- Antonio. The one with great hair who mows your lawn-"

Wanda blinked, then laughed, drowning out anything else he had to say.

"Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm sorry!" She leaned against the counter to steady herself, still laughing. "You would fall for him, wouldn't you? Has he told you he's only nineteen?"

"Liar! He said he was only two years younger."

"Well, maybe he finds you intimidating. You are a mysterious, handsome foreign stranger."

"That's true."

"And I'm not even sure how old mine is."

She could almost see him blink, taken aback.

"Yours?"


	13. Wanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for all your support! I'm finally getting to some good climax action in the last part of this fic, which means the writing is almost done.  
> Still kinda talky this chapter. Sorry about all this.  
> ((Also a note: I added an 'alcohol' tag because I realize the Bennet/Rykovs are quite the boozy family in this universe. This fic is pretty tame in all other areas, so I hope that isn't a dealbreaker for anyone!))

The conversation with Wanda made him feel infinitely better. Just hearing her voice confirmed that everything they were doing was right. But it also made him nervous. Once they were finished updating one another on their lives apart, she had insisted they make plans for revealing themselves to Bennet and Nika. He now had a deadline for his relationship with his father. Pietro searched around the cupboards until he found one full of bottles. Not that he was drinking his feelings away. He had a plan.

"Hey, Bennet," he looked up from the scotch he had chosen when the front door opened and fell shut. "How was the daytime bordello?"

Bennet had long since stopped bothering with responding to the joke. He dropped his keys on the counter and sat across from Pietro for once. He seemed unsurprised to see the bottle, and took it to fill a glass from the cabinet near his knee.

"Where's the Italian kid?"

Pietro shrugged. "He probably has his own life."

Bennet made a small humming noise in agreement. Pietro sipped his scotch and watched him, trying to work up the nerve to start a conversation. Bennet waved the bottle at him.

"What're you lookin at?"

He shrugged again. "Nothing much," he swallowed and tried again. "That was- that was not meant to be insult that time."

Bennet gave him a strange look, but shrugged. "You seem like you're doin better."

"Yeah," he nodded into his glass. "Have they... called about Miss Bennet?"

"No."

"Oh," he took a sip of the scotch. "They say she is fine, though."

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

Pietro swallowed and tried again. "So where do you work? Really? I know it is not bordello."

Bennet watched him as though he didn't quite trust the question.

"I'm on security detail," he answered finally. "For some politician and his family. Mostly it's just transport, but when there's a public event, I'm on all day sometimes."

Pietro nodded as though this was new to him. "That is interesting. My mother is translator," he glanced up, head still ducked, hoping for some kind of reaction to his words. "She used to have a government job. In the states."

"Russian in the U.S. government, huh?" With not much of a different reaction than anyone else, Pietro searched around for something else to say, but then Bennet spoke again. "I knew one of those."

Pietro tried to control his pounding heart as he looked up. "Yeah? What were they like?"

Bennet gave him another one of his looks and refilled his glass. "What do you want to know for?"

Pietro shrugged and followed suit. Just curious. About you, I guess."

Bennet shrugged and downed his glass in one gulp. "She was an undercover specialist. Couldn't stand her, to be honest. But she was damn good at her job, and I trusted her."

"Trusted?" Pietro had completely forgotten about his drink. "What happened?"

Bennet poured yet another glass and ignored Pietro's raised eyebrows. "Plenty. Got married, first."

"Really?"

"Yup," he waved a hand and leaned back in his chair. "You don't wanna hear about this."

"I really do," Pietro downed his glass with a grimace. It only seemed fair. "So come on. Full story. How did you meet?"

"On a job. Here- in the city. Nearly got me shot."

Pietro couldn't suppress a laugh. "And then?"

"Then what always happens: sex." He laughed at the twisted look on Pietro's face. "Not so funny when it's me, is it?"

"No. It's not. So you two just got married for-" he made an exaggerated gagging face.

Bennet's expression fell slightly. "No. Definitely not just the sex. Though- it was pretty amazing."

Pietro hastily poured himself another glass.

"We were happy, I think. Happy enough to get the ki- the kid."

"Get?"

"Yeah. Adopted Wanda. She didn't want to be laid up for half a year."

"Always thought it could be better that way. You can't doubt your parents want you."

Bennet blinked. "Guess I never thought of it that way."

"I've had time to."

"You were adopted."

Pietro nodded. They were getting far too close- he had to get the conversation back on track.

"So why did you break up?"

"You're nosey"

"And drunk. Probably won't remember later anyway." That was a lie. He'd barely taken a sip when Bennet arrived. "So what's the harm?"

Bennet was looking at him with suspicion, but he went on anyway. "Just normal married stuff. Who was going to stay home. How to raise the kids."

"You mean kid."

Bennet blinked, looking somewhat bleary already. "Yeah. The kid. Wanda."

"Wanda. That's a nice name."

"We didn't pick the names. Their mother had the names chosen before she died."

Pietro didn't bother to correct him this time. He poured them both another glass, hoping Bennet would keep talking.

"We would have argued about that too, if we had the choice."

"People argue. Not everyone breaks up."

"Yeah, yeah."

"So what _really_ happened?"

Bennet sipped his glass more slowly now. "She wanted to introduce the kids to the worst of life. So they'd be prepared. I just wanted them to have a normal childhood." He finished the glass in one last gulp. "Said some stuff. Realized it wasn't going to work. So we split everything down the middle. Haven't spoken since."

Pietro tried to look surprised. "What?"

"Not once."

"You were _married_. You adopted a _child_ together. Doesn't she want to meet Wanda?"

Bennet shifted uncomfortably. "Probably. She's fine though. She's tough."

Pietro felt a small tendril of anger uncurl itself from deep in his stomach. Or maybe scotch and concussions just didn't mix.

"So you assume it was easy for her?"

" _Everything's_ easy for her."

"People like that still feel, you know."

"Oh come on."

"No- listen-" the words were coming too fast for him to stop now. Hopefully, Bennet was too drunk to examine them too closely. "She _acts_ like she knows everything because she feels like she's messed everything up! All the time!"

Bennet gave him a sulky look as he continued to drink. "Know someone like that, do you?"

"I'm a lot like her."

~

Almost immediately after Wanda hung up and tried to put the burner back exactly how she found it, Nika was opening the front door.

"I bought you some clothes."

"Oh-" Wanda blinked as Nika dropped a pair of bags on the counter. "Thank you. I'll just-" she gestured to Pietro's room and took the bags with her inside.

Nika had been careful to chose very gender neutral items- even the underwear. She put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt much softer than the one she had been wearing for the past few weeks. Even if it smelled terrible and had more holes in it than she liked to think about, Wanda folded the NYPD shirt carefully and put it safely in the top drawer of Pietro's dresser so Nika wouldn't throw it out.

"You know, this was very nice of you," she came back to the kitchen with just one of the bags. "But I'd prefer a bra to that binder."

Nika nodded and took the bag and receipt. "I suppose I should have asked. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I was only-" she gestured to her shorn hair and baggy clothes. "Because I was in a rough situation. It seemed safer."

Nika let out an approving hum. "Smart. I've done it too."

Wanda tried to control the flush rising up her neck at the sparse praise. She was being ridiculous. But Nika's approval meant everything to her.

"But I think it's time we got you home and you told me where my son is."

The pleased rush drained completely from Wanda's body. She wasn't ready for this. She needed more time to plan. Possibly write things down.

"Um- trust me. Pietro is fine."

"Trust you?" Nika raised a dry eyebrow. "Why on earth would I do that? What reason have you given me to trust you?"

"I- I don't want to cause you any trouble."

She hummed in dull amusement. "Too late for that. You slept in my home, ate my food, and now you're wearing clothes that I bought."

Wanda groaned, her slow temper finally boiling over at her frustration. She shook her hands at the older woman. "How can you be so-"

"What? You are the one inviting yourself into someone else's home under false pretenses and giving no information about yourself."

"Unbelievable," Wanda shook her head. "How is anyone supposed to _talk_ to you? You approach everything like a problem to be solved!"

"You _are_."

"People aren't problems! You shouldn't always approach them with an end goal in mind!"

"Then why would I approach them?"

"To get to know them! To enjoy their company!"

"Isn't that a goal?"

"Stop it! Just stop it!" she could feel her face burning and knew that she was yelling, but she couldn't stop. "All I wanted was to find out who you were, but you make it _impossible_ to have a normal conversation! You're so critical! How is anyone supposed to feel like you care!"

"I don't know how to change to make you happy, Wanda!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another PSA from the author: Despite good intentions, Nika realizes that she had made an assumption about Wanda's gender identity/performance. She thought that, due to her baggy clothes and short hair, Wanda was a trans man or perhaps non-binary, and required a binder. When she finds out this is incorrect, Nika knows she should apologize and ask about such things in the future. Way to go Nika! Apologizing isn't easy and it's sometimes awkward, but it's necessary to make those around you feel safe.


	14. Deadline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are gettin real and hitting the fan this week! Thank you for sticking with it this long and for all your support.

Pietro had a massive headache the next morning. Scotch and concussions definitely did not mix. He drank what felt like ten gallons of water from the bathroom sink before stumbling his way down the stairs. It was no small comfort to find Bennet in a similar state. He looked even worse than he normally did in the morning. The older man looked ashen and his lips were cracking and flaking into his customary pot of morning coffee.

"Morning."

Bennet glared. "How are you better off than me?"

"Well, I _am_ Russian. And much, _much_ younger." He winced as the cupboard door shut louder than he'd meant it to.

"Why you gotta be so loud?"

"Sorry."

He sat down at the counter and poured a bowl of cereal. Bennet was staring at him in a slightly less annoyed way than usual. He tried to concentrate on his cereal, but the back of his neck was burning. How much of their conversation did Bennet remember from the night before? He was running through all kinds of paranoid scenarios in his head. In the interest of fairness, he had ended up drinking far more than he had originally intended. Pietro's mind raced through the conversation, trying to pinpoint anything he had said that perhaps he shouldn't have. When he was as sure as he could be that nothing that couldn't be explained away had been said- on his end at least- he pulled up a suspicious expression.

"What are you staring at, old man?"

"You've gotten a bit nicer, past couple of days or so."

Pietro swallowed his mouthful of cereal and tried to stay calm. He shrugged. "Just realized I owe it to you, I guess. You didn't have to let me stay here. Or buy me clothes."

Bennet blinked as he chewed his food. "The hell did that come from?"

Pietro grinned. "You're still an old man and escort."

"There it is," Bennet almost smiled, then waved the box of cereal he was eating from at him. "But it isn't a big deal. So don't go bein nice on my account."

"It is."

"Well, reasoning was kinda selfish anyway."

"Yeah?"

Bennet shrugged, his attention firmly focused on getting out another handful of oat-based crunch. "Couldn't help but think about my kid. Bout if she was in your position."

"Oh." Pietro could feel his palms sweating. _"Tomorrow. Tomorrow at 5 o'clock your time. That's our deadline, Pietro."_ It was barely ten in the morning, but he was still feeling anxious. "Um- listen, Bennet-"

The doorbell interrupted him and caused them both to groan. Bennet slumped off of his stool and down the hall. Pietro laid his face straight down on the counter.

He couldn't do this. Wanda made it sound so easy. Bennet would never forgive him for this. There was no way. He had lied. Not just about himself but about Wanda. How could Bennet ever look past that? He was worried about his daughter, and Pietro had let him keep worrying while they made their plans to throw the lives of their parents upside down.

"She's pretty upset."

Phil's voice broke him out of his storm of swirling thoughts. It was raised. Not in anger, but as though he wanted to be heard, perhaps not just by Bennet.

"No she's not. She doesn't get upset."

"We both know that's not true."

Pietro sat up straight, hoping he didn't look too hung over. Phil always gave him the same look when he drank.

"Well what are we supposed to do? No. Contact. That's it. No exceptions."

"Well, it wasn't a very well thought-out agreement."

"Not helping, Phil."

The two men stepped quickly into the kitchen, both looking harassed and anxious. Pietro tried to avoid Phil's gaze and look completely disinterested in his presence as well as the conversation.

"Something wrong, Bennet?"

Bennet waved a hand at him and didn't respond.

"It's not something you two planned for," Phil was deliberately not looking at Pietro as well. "You didn't plan for-"

Bennet made a forbidding noise and gestured to the back of the house. "Grab a chair out back, will ya? I'll be there in a second."

Phil shrugged, but started for the back door. When it was sure Bennet wasn't looking, he caught Pietro's eye and tapped his watch. Pietro swallowed and tried to remain calm in front of Bennet. This could only mean one thing. Phil knew about the deadline, and he was here to make sure Pietro honored it.

"Everything okay, old man?" His voice was probably shaking. Luckily, Bennet seemed too distracted to notice.

"Yeah. I mean- probably. And anyway, it's nothing I have control of." Bennet paused on his way to the coffeepot, frowning. "Did I tell you about my horrible ex last night?"

Pietro shrugged in what he hoped was a careless sort of way. "Maybe a little."

~

"How-" Wanda's voice was shaking and faint. There was a rushing in her ears that wouldn't go away. If she didn't have the counter to grip, she might have fallen. "How long have you known?"

"Don't insult me. I knew the first hour."

"And you didn't say-"

"You wanted it to be a secret, for whatever reason. I wanted to learn what that reason was." Nika's face was set. She might have been interrogating a national traitor instead of speaking with her long-lost daughter.

"I just- we wanted-"

"I assume Pietro is with your father?"

Wanda nodded. She felt like a child under Nika's hard gaze.

"You met on the cruise somehow?"

"Yes."

"And you found out everything."

"Yes. Well- not everything- I mean-"

"And what is your plan now?" She raised a perfectly arched brow.

"We-we just wanted-" Wanda's mouth was dry. This wasn't supposed to be how it went. She was supposed to reveal herself in a quiet moment between the two of them when they were feeling comfortable and close. Nika was supposed to be shocked, but ultimately overjoyed to see her. She was supposed to apologize for not being there for Wanda and for allowing Pietro to grow up without a father. She wasn't supposed to make Wanda feel like the one who had wronged her.

"You didn't think any of this through, did you? Where does your father think you are? Did you think about him during all of this?"

Wanda swallowed hard. "He knows I'm saf-"

"But he doesn't know where you are," Nika was terrifying. There was none of the secret warmth Pietro had talked of when she looked at Wanda. She looked like she wanted her dead. "Do you know all the information I have been given since I got home from my business trip a week ago? One message on my voicemail saying there was an accident, but my son was coming home. And who shows up at the airport instead? _Not_ my son!"

"But your _daughter_!" Wanda was too angry to be hurt or afraid anymore. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. She had waited her whole life for this moment, and Nika was determined to ruin it in any way that she could. "I'm _here_! I'm Wanda Bennet and I'm _here_. You're still looking at me like I don't even exist!"

"I'm looking at you the way I look at every girl your age!"

It was there again. The look she had when she spoke too fast. Wanda could feel her pulse in her ears.

"What?"

"The only way-" Nika's voice was dangerously low. "I was so ready to believe it was you because I always see you. Every time. So I try not to see you."

Wanda blinked at her, taking in for the first time Nika's clenched fists and one sucked in cheek. If she wasn't shaking herself, she might have been able to tell if the older woman's hands were trembling in their small, but hard fists.

That was all it took. The anger in her was already exhausted. It had burned up like a puddle of gasoline, and with nowhere else to go, it snuffed itself out. Wanda swallowed hard and tried to pull up a shaky smile.

"That..." Wanda cleared her throat and wiped at the tears on her cheeks as she spoke. "Probably got kind of scary when Pietro started bringing girls home."

"You have _no_ idea."

She laughed and tried to pretend she wasn't losing it too hard. Nika was looking straight in her eyes for the first time since they met, her mouth twisting as though she couldn't decide if she should be smiling or not.

"Can you maybe start crying so I don't look so stupid?"

It was like with just one tiny laugh that escaped her throat, Nika's eyes were suddenly shining and something in her cracked so it was clear she was barely holding on to her typical composure.

"You sound just like your father."

~

It was 4:00. Pietro had showered while Bennet and Phil talked in the back garden. He'd also changed his clothes three times, but Bennet didn't need to know that. It wasn't that he was nervous. He just wished he had more time.

When he finished, he check out the back window. Bennet and Phil were still sitting outside. He paced for what felt like hours, but it was only 4:15 when he checked the clock again. He felt sick. Maybe if he threw up, Wanda would understand if he was late for their deadline. He laid flat on his face on the couch, waiting for the two men to finish their conversation. He could do this. It was just a conversation. Wanda had it much worse. Mama was at least twice as terrifying as Bennet. He wondered if she had started yet. It had to be the strangest and most terrifying conversation in history. In comparison, telling Bennet _should_ be easy. Should be.

"Hey- you dead?"

Pietro lifted his head, startled. He must have dozed off. Bennet was staring at him, looking somewhat miffed that he had deigned to fall asleep on the couch.

"Bennet! I have to talk to you."

"Can it wait, Kid? I'm kinda on my way out." He frowned, pausing for a moment as he looked at Pietro. "Did you shave?"

"It is important." Pietro realized he was still lying down and scrambled to get to his feet. It sent his head spinning, but it likely had more to do with the subject of the coming conversation than his concussion.

"Better not have used my razor-" Bennet was moving around the living room and kitchen, gathering his wallet and keys and various bits of paperwork from drawers as he went. "I have to get down to the embassy. Phil thinks he might have a tip on finding my ki-"

"Um, well- can-"

"Just spit it out already, alright? This is impor-"

"I'mPietroRykovandIthinkI'myourson." Bennet blinked. "You're a what now?"

"I'm..." Pietro swallowed hard and tried to remember if he was normally so conscious of how much saliva he was producing. "My- my name. It is Pietro Rykov. My mother adopted me from Sokovia in 1992. Um- I think- with... you."

Bennet was still staring at him like he had grown an extra head. Pietro wiped his palms on the insides of his pockets and tried again. He was supposed to get a reaction by now. The bandaid was ripped off.

"Um- Nika. Nika Rykov? She's my mother. Not my birth mother but- and Wanda and I- we met and- and it seem like better idea when explaining to Wanda, but she is in Russia and- and I am here- and we wanted- we wanted to meet you- I mean I wanted to meet you- Wanda wanted to meet my mother- because- well- I don't really know-"

"Shut up, will you?"

Pietro swallowed again. This should be it, right? He should get some kind of reaction. Unless Wanda was wrong. Unless the whole thing was a huge misunderstanding full of bizarre coincidences. That could be uncomfortable.

"You're..." Bennet was looking him up and down slowly, his expression wooden. "You- you look a lot different. Than the last time I saw you."

Pietro didn't know who moved first. All he knew was that they were hugging awkwardly, Bennet's fist slamming repeatedly into his back, his finger's gripping the back of Bennet's shirt. And this happened to be a convenient way of hiding that they were both crying.


	15. Family Bonding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woops! A little later than usual this week, I'm sorry if anyone pays attention to when I usually posts updates.  
> This chapter marks the end of Part 3! Next week we will be moving into our last part. Thank you for all your support!

"I'm still going to kill both of you, you know."

Wanda smiled into her mug of tea. They were curled up on opposite sides of the couch, the TV playing softly in the background. After they'd managed to stop crying, Nika had made them tea and called Phil to tell him she knew the truth. He'd promised to push Pietro into action. By the sound of things, he was still stalling.

"That's okay. You can ground us if you want. Take away our phones or turn off the internet. You and Apa can work it out."

Nika gave her a look. "This is real life, Wanda. You and Pietro's little scheme is not going to end like a Kathryn Heigle movie."

Wanda shrugged. "Well, maybe not. But you are going to have to see him."

"I don't see why I would. You and your brother are clearly capable of traveling on your own."

Wanda smiled, but it dropped from her lips after a moment. "Did it really end that badly? With Dad?"

She had to know. What could have possibly have been so bad that they would never speak to one another again? They both certainly had their flaws, but nothing that seemed worthy of tearing their family apart.

Nika sipped her tea slowly, not looking up. "It was a long time ago."

"I know. Over twenty years. You're telling me you forgot?"

"No. I'm telling you I don't want to talk about it." She sighed at the look on Wanda's face. "I'm sorry, _MIlaya Moyna._ Not today."

Wanda nodded, trying not to show just how much she enjoyed hearing the term of endearment. She knew that soon enough she would feel emotionally exhausted by their confrontation, but now, she was only exhilarated. She never wanted to stop talking to Nika about anything and everything.

"So tell me the good parts," she leaned in closer, clutching her mug of tea with both hands. "We were a good part, weren't we? Pietro and I?"

Nika smiled and reached out a hand for Wanda to take.

"Yes, Wanda. You were." She was trying, that was clear. But there was still a hint of awkwardness as she searched for the words. "You were... only two months old when we took you home. We were terrified. Both of us. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. Neither of us had any experience with children, just knew that you were what we were missing." She pressed her lips together for a moment, then took a sip of her tea before going on. "The two of you caught a cold the very first week and we were sure you were dying."

Wanda laughed. "You don't strike me as that much of a worrier."

She didn't realize how it would sound until the words had left her lips. The look on Nika's face made her regret ever opening her mouth. Parents were supposed to worry. Saying that Nika didn't sounded too much like saying she wasn't a good parent.

"I'm sorry- I didn't mean-"

"No, it's alright," Nika shook her head. "I know how I can be. Pietro's probably told you all about my cold, unfeeling heart."

"No," Wanda squeezed her hand before Nika could pull away. "Pietro _loves_ you. And he knows how much you love him."

She hesitated. It really wasn't her place to be making any of these comments, but she couldn't stop herself.

"I think he's just afraid to tell you how much he cares because he thinks you won't respect him for it. He thinks you're... _ideal_. In some ways. And he sees how close to the chest you play everything. So he feels like if he doesn't do that too, he'll somehow be 'less-than', you know?"

Nika blinked, as though this was the one possibility that hadn't quite occurred to her. That her son might idolize her. "Oh. I wouldn't have thought of that."

Wanda pressed her lips together, trying to decide if she could say what she wanted to. She'd already overstepped a hundred times in the past few days. There really wasn't much point in holding anything else back.

"We live in Budapest, you know. Me and Dad. Pietro says that's where you two met."

Nika nodded. "I... Thought you might."

"He didn't want to let go, I guess. Where did you live when you were together?"

"New York. You're probably still technically an American citizen."

"I've never even been to New York."

"We promised to avoid it whenever possible. For the sake of fairness. So we wouldn't run into one another visiting old friends." She smiled someone mischievously. "I did sneak back once, for a wedding. Checked with Phil about ten times to be sure your father wasn't going."

Wanda nodded. She hadn't really thought about the life together that their parents must have left behind. There were probably dozens of people back in New York who thought of them as a couple. The idea seemed so bizarre.

"Did you ever come to Budapest?"

Nika didn't respond right away, just ran her thumb over the back of Wanda's hand. "No. How is he?"

"He's the best. But, Mom- he still lives in the city where you two met."

~

Pietro couldn't stop smiling. He leaned against the counter while Bennet pulled out bottles from the fridge and called for a pizza. Neither of them seemed to know how to act, but didn't seem too bothered trying to posture any sort of "right" behavior.

"I don't speak Hungarian," he said as Bennet hung up. "But I am pretty sure yours is terrible."

"You're a complete brat," but he was smiling, the expression crunching his face together. Pietro hadn't seen him smile this way since he arrived, and there was more than a little pride in his gut at the knowledge that he had brought it about. "The both of you. I'll kill both you kids."

"Is okay."

"I'm guessin your mom doesn't order a whole lot of pizza."

Pietro rolled his eyes. "I've had pizza."

"Not decent stuff," Bennet snapped the cap off of a pair of beers and handed one to him. "Useless, healthy shit with no cheese. I know what Europeans think pizza is."

"Well, what's pizza supposed to be?"

"90% grease. Processed out of its mind cheese. Tomato paste that's been in the basement since 1984."

Pietro raised his eyebrows. "And you found a place here that makes that?"

"Toby Belch's. Best pizza in Hungary."

"You're joking."

"Your intestines are going to wish I was in a few hours."

Pietro laughed and knocked back the beer Bennet had handed him. It was amazing. Much better than the cheap scotch they had been drinking the night before. He waved a hand impatiently.

"Come now- you have to tell me everything. About Mama and Wanda. First date, wedding pictures, everything."

"Oh come on," Bennet grimaced. "You couldn't _pay_ me to have that conversation."

"One-hundred _forint_."

"You know they're worse than _pesos_ , right? That's not even a dollar."

"Fine. I'll ask later. Americans are lightweights."

Bennet pushed half the bottles across the counter and gathered the rest in his arms.

"Come on-" he jerked his head in the direction of the living room. "Pizza and beer and movies."

Pietro gathered up his share of the refreshments and followed him into the living room.

"Not letting you off the hook about wedding pictures."

"We didn't have a wedding. Just signed everything down at the courthouse."

Pietro frowned, disappointed. "Shit, you two are no fun. Didn't you know that your children would want to make fun of you one day? I wanted to see Mama's terrible 80s dress. And your hair. I bet you had mullet."

"You don't have _any_ right to make fun of anyone's hair," Bennet smirked as he dropped onto the couch and took a drink of his beer. "Can't believe your mom let you do that."

"I'm an adult." He grinned at Bennet's raised eyebrow as he followed him, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "She tried to pretend she didn't care. But she hates it."

"I'll bet."

He was quiet for a moment. Pietro let the bottle drop from his lips. It was inevitable. The moment they remembered why this reunion between them had happened in the first place. He'd hoped they would have more time to celebrate each other's company before this happened.

"What?"

Bennet was staring at his hands, tapping his fingers against the bottle on his knee. "She okay? Your mom?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"Cuz you grew up in Russia."

Pietro bristled slightly, automatically feeling defensive on behalf of his upbringing. "What's wrong with Russia?"

Bennet sighed and set his drink down. "She didn't have a happy childhood. She didn't even like laying over in the airport. She never wanted to go back there." He ran a hand through his hair. "Guess she wanted to make sure I never found you two."

Pietro shrugged, feeling more sympathetic to the concern at this explanation.

"Or maybe she was just trying to erase reminders. Maybe even punish herself a little." When Bennet didn't respond, he nudged his knee with his bottle. "It didn't work, you know. She misses you."

"No she doesn't."

"She does! I can tell."

"How would you even-"

"She doesn't _talk_ about you," Pietro pressed on. Bennet _had_ to understand what that meant. He had been _married_ to her. "Even when I ask. She'll tell me _anything_. I know how hard growing up was for her. I know horrible, _horrible_ things from when she gave me the 'sex talk.' She approaches _every_ subject like it is nothing. Except _you_. It must upset her to even _think_ about you."

Bennet raised his eyebrows and took another sip of his beer. "Is that supposed to be a good thing?"

Pietro shrugged and picked up his drink again. "Probably."

Bennet finally gave him a sad, half-hearted smile. "She really hasn't gotten remarried? Not found someone else? Someone serious in her life?"

"Are you kidding?" Pietro jumped at the tiny glimmer of hope Bennet was offering. This he could work with. "As far as I know, she has been on one date. He didn't shower and wore too much eyeliner. That was it."

Bennet threw back his head and laughed. Pietro couldn't help but join in. It was easier to talk about his mother than himself. He could laugh about her, brag about her, complain about her- all in comfort. He still couldn't bring himself to talk about himself. Bennet seemed to skirt the issue as well. It was like a silent agreement to the both of them. Wanda and Nika were safe- fair game. They were still laughing when the doorbell rang.

"Shit," Bennet reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Just give him... 5,000. The purple guy. And hurry back, I'm starving."

Pietro took the wallet and grinned. "Sure, Dad."

~

Nika took her out shopping for real the next day. They'd stayed up late in the night talking- Wanda insisting on hearing all about Pietro's childhood after Nika had refused to talk about her father. They must have only slept a few hours, both curled up on either end of the couch. But walking down the street, with the sun baking the top of her head, Wanda never felt better. She took charge and slid her arm into her mother's as they walked down the street. Nika glanced at her, but didn't pull away.

She made Wanda go to a fancy boutique to be fitted for a bra. _"You need to be fitted properly. No one wears the right size. You need Caterina."_ Wanda rolled her eyes at the lecture, but allowed "Caterina" to whip a tape measure around her and shove an armful of bras into her arms to try on. She wouldn't admit it to Nika, but the new underwear felt amazing. There might be something to the whole expensive lingerie thing. Or maybe she had just been wearing the same ratty sports bra for almost a month straight.

"I'm shopping with my mother," Wanda couldn't stop grinning as she swung the boutique bag at her side on the way to the next store. "I never thought I would get to do this."

"You're much better to shop with than Pietro. He is far too headstrong."

Wanda laughed and took Nika's arm again.

"I can see that being an issue for the two of you." She frowned up at the store Nika was steering her towards. "This place looks nice."

"It is."

"Well, what's the occasion? I have formal wear at home, you know."

"We're going to dinner. With your father and Pietro."

Wanda almost ran smack into the revolving door. She followed Nika in a daze.

"But- but-"

"What? You thought you were never going home?"

"Well no- but-"

"And I haven't spoken to my son in almost a month. He's been in the hospital. I'd like to at least speak to him."

Wanda smiled despite herself. "Worrier."

Nika's mouth twisted as she tried not to smile.

"Hush. I talked to Phil already. We'll meet in Essen and have dinner. I owe you two one dinner with your father. But that's it." She was pressing her lips together as she flicked through a rack of dresses. "I'm happy to know you Wanda, and I would be thrilled if I was a part of your life from now on, but your father and I had an agreement. You can make your own decision about me now that you are grown, but he already has."

Wanda nodded, taking a dress Nika passed her. This end game of the plan may be a little more difficult than she and Pietro were hoping. But the dinner was their chance. They would have to make it count.

"Well, thank you. For the one dinner. I'm sure it's going to be great."

"Mhmm-" Nika's lip twitched just a hair as she pulled a slinky emerald satin number off the rack and threw it over her shoulder. "And if I happen to look better than I ever did while we were married, so be it."

A huge grin spread across Wanda's face. "You're definitely going to need heels to go with that."

Nika blinked at her. "You're absolutely right."


	16. Essen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting our fourth and final part of this story! Thank you for all your continued support! Hopefully soon things will get less talky- but I kinda got on a dialogue roll for awhile here and didn't know how to break out of it without losing my momentum. But get ready to take a break from badly translated Hungarian, Russian, and Portuguese, and prepare yourself for some badly translated German! My grammar isn't good enough to actually translate myself, so it's time for more Google translate.  
> Also I have no idea if the Schote is actually all that fancy. My knowledge of fancy restaurants in any country is non-existent.

"I'm also going to kill Phil."

Pietro grinned and stretched up to put his bag in the overhead bin above their seats. He'd talked Bennet into taking the train instead of flying. Not that he was afraid of flying. And not that he didn't want Bennet to see him knock back enough drinks to kill an elephant before takeoff just to keep from having a panic attack. He just preferred trains, that's all. He had thought it might be hard to convince Bennet, but in the end it took just careful implications. He'd just implied that Bennet was too much of a cowboy to handle proper public transport.

"Is okay. He'll understand."

Bennet shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. "I can't believe you talked me into this. Fourteen hours. We could have been there and out of the airport in under three. You know- in a plane? Like normal modern humans?"

"The train is fine. You're just spoiled." Pietro pulled out the phone Bennet had bought him to replace the one that had been lost on the cruise ship. "Here. You haven't seen _Mama_ in twenty years. You have to be prepared."

"What- you have pictures on a cloud or something?"

"Better stick to Facebook. Not sure what is all on my cloud. Could get weird."

"I'm _so_ glad I know that."

"Shut up and look-" he pulled up one of the few pictures of his mother on his profile. It was from a friend's wedding reception they had flown all the way to New York for. She had taken him out for new eveningwear for the occasion and Pietro hadn't understood why she also got her hair, nails and makeup done by professionals until they arrived. The groom was filthy rich and the wedding was more in the style of an extravagant upscale ball than a personal party. So if it happened to be the most glamorous and perfect his mother had looked in living memory, so be it.

"See? She still looks amazing. Just naturally glamorous."

Bennet barely glanced at the photo. "Yup. That's her alright. Same old, same old."

Pietro's jaw might have dropped a little.

"What? 'Same old'? _Mama_ is not ' _same old_.'"

"I thought you were grossed out talking about our sex life?"

"Yes, but this isn't _sex_. This is Mother being beautiful and amazing and you two definitely missing each other."

"Don't do this, Kid."

"Do what?" Pietro shrugged and continued flicking through his photos. "Oh- see this one? We went to Australia once. Met Hugh Jackman. He was definitely in love with her. She wasn't having any of it though."

"You're making that up. You're a terrible liar."

"Well, there _was_ a ridiculously attractive Australian hitting on her. And she _could_ make Hugh Jackman fall for her." Pietro shrugged. "Just saying, Dad. She could have tons of sexy Australians, but she picked _you_."

"Thanks a lot, Kid."

"I'm serious!"

He elbowed Bennet to show him the latest picture he had found. He'd snuck it once when his mother had been in the midst of one of her 'I hate the world' ice cream binges. He'd come home from University- definitely not because he'd just been dumped- and found her dead center in a _Die Hard_ marathon. They didn't talk about why he was there or what had inspired her bad mood, but they'd worked through four cartons of rum raisin, six bottles of wine, one bottle of gin, and almost every major Hollywood action flick from the past 35 years in the course of two and a half days. He'd taken the picture in the middle of the first _Mad Max_ , when Nika had a spoon in her mouth as she struggled to pull the cork out of the next wine bottle. She looked almost normal in the photo, with limp hair, no makeup, and the same tank top and sweatpants combo she'd been sporting the entire weekend.

Bennet's lip twitched when he finally looked down at the screen. "That's more like it."

Pietro brightened. "See? She can still make you smile. You miss her."

"Oh come on- I was laughing _at_ her. She looks ridiculous."

"No. You still adore her. Who wouldn't?"

" _I_ wouldn't."

~

They flew to Essen first class, a luxury Wanda was not accustomed to. It seemed she was originally right about Nika's financial situation. the small apartment must have been more a sign of preference. Nika spoke quickly to the stewardess and soon the woman was back with a pair of drinks.

"This is the best drink," Nika passed one to Wanda with a sideways smile. "You'll love it."

Wanda nodded and took a sip. It was horrible. Nika laughed and her grimace and badly concealed noise of disgust.

"What? You don't like it?"

"It's terrible. Why would you ever drink that on purpose?"

"Because it's barely legal and if you're anything like your brother, you hate flying." She grinned when Wanda grudgingly nodded. "Now take your medicine."

It wasn't long before they were both more than a little drunk. At least, Wanda _thought_ Nika must be drunk. She had to be. There was no way someone her size could knock back four of the disgusting concoctions without being drunk. Wanda herself didn't drink much, and she was feeling like maybe that was a pretty good thing. The rushing of the plane was mixing with her swimming head to make her feel like she was 10,000 leagues under water.

"How are you not as bad as me...?" Her tongue felt heavy. "You are shorter than me. And _régebbi_."

"Hush," Nika grinned and thanked the stewardess for the latest pair of drinks while Wanda groaned. "It's more fun drinking on a plane if you have someone to drink with."

Wanda smiled and angled herself in her seat to be closer to Nika. "Do you and Pietro travel a lot?"

"Sometimes. More when he was younger. I'm too busy now- with work."

"Translating."

"Yes- translating. Exhausting stuff. Having people yell at you all day so you can smooth out their message and relay a watered down version to the person they're actually mad at."

Wanda grimaced. "Yikes."

"Guess that'll be your job too, huh?"

She blinked, then laughed. Probably harder than she would have normally. "I guess I never thought of it like that."

"How did you think of it?"

"I don't know," Wanda shrugged. This felt personal and deep. Or maybe she was just drunk. "Like medical doctors, I guess. Want to save people. Fix people."

To her surprise, Nika laughed. She felt her face start to burn.

"What?"

"You are just very much your brother's twin."

She was smiling at Wanda now. Not the close-lipped, lopsided one she had seen before, but something more open and genuine. Wanda's heart started beating faster than normal as she realized this was likely her best chance to prepare Nika for the dinner. It was probably an unsubtle change of subject, but who knew when she would get Nika in such a good mood again?

"You know, Dad never remarried."

Nika raised her eyebrows at her, the smile gone. " _And_?"

" _And_ it's just interesting. Neither of you ever really moved on."

"Or maybe being in a relationship is no indication of someone's life satisfaction."

Wanda blinked at her, then snorted so loudly the man across the aisle jumped. She was definitely drunk. But it was still hilarious to hear those words come out of someone else's mouth for once.

"Is that such a ridiculous concept to you?"

"No-" she tried to control her giggles. "You- It's just- I've been telling people that for years."

Nika stared at her a moment longer, then smiled. She took another drink as Wanda got a hold of herself.

"So you don't want a relationship? Don't date?"

Wanda knocked back the rest of her own drink to stall. They weren't supposed to be talking about her. They were supposed to be talking about how wonderful and handsome and single her father was. But the strong drink was breaking down her resolution.

"I, um- I'm not interested in sex."

"Asexual?"

Wanda let out a sigh that was probably too obviously relieved. It was always easier not having to explain everything from the drawing board.

"Yes. And I've never really wanted a relationship with anyone enough to try and make things work with that little complication. But..."

"There's someone. Recently."

Wanda was definitely not going to tell Nika about Vision. There was not enough alcohol in the world. This conversation was not about to happen.

She told her everything.

~

They got a hotel room when they arrived. Pietro's German was actually marginally better than Bennet's and he did most of the talking with the desk clerk. It felt good to be capable enough to take the lead. He was grateful for all Bennet had done for him, but there was a certain sense of relief in being able to contribute in some way. They watched crap action movies all through the night and slept until almost noon the day of their dinner reservations. Pietro wondered if his mother and Wanda were in the city yet. He wished he had time to confer with his twin before they put their plans into action. He was trying to be calm about the whole situation, but his pulse was thudding in his palms.

One dinner. One dinner to remind Bennet and his mother of what they had together and what they could still have. All of them.

"So what are you wearing to dinner?"

Bennet glanced down at his admittedly very nice jeans and leather jacket. He lifted his arms, then dropped them back to his sides.

"You are joking."

"I'm not dressing up for this like it's a date, Kid."

"We're going to the _Schote_. You can't show up looking like a rentboy."

"Prostitute jokes are gettin old."

"Well, go back to _classy_ escort mode. You will be thrown out and it will be _very_ embarrassing for the three of us." He glanced up with a sly grin. "And you know Mama is going to look _amazing_ to remind you what you've been missing."

"All the more reason to remind her that I'm not going to this dinner to try to win her back."

Pietro groaned. "You are like five year old."

Bennet rolled his eyes. "Come on."

"No. You have to make an effort. Are you going to let Wanda think this isn't a big deal for you just so that you can play head games with Mother?"

"Now that's just manipulative."

Pietro grinned. "Who do you think raised me?"

Bennet agreed to go out for a suit. Pietro did his best to explain to the attendant at the nicest shop in Essen what they needed. Judging by the way Bennet was glaring at him, he understood most of the clumsy German.

_"Nur , ihm etwas erhalten , die eine Frau, die ihn gehen, vor zwanzig Jahren Ohnmacht und daran erinnern, wie sehr sie ihn liebt, lassen Sie machen wird."_

The attendant nodded as if this were the most common request she received. She brought them two options of suits, one in black and one in a cool, steely grey. Bennet snatched up the grey one, muttering something about not wanting to be a penguin.

Pietro texted Phil while he waited for Bennet to change. Wanda and Nika had already arrived in Essen. They were staying on the opposite side of the city to Bennet and Pietro's hotel. No doubt carefully planned by both to be that way. They were both like children. This was going to be hard work.

"I'm not going to wear a suit. This was a bad idea."

Pietro grinned at Bennet's tight scowl. For a rack suit, it was a great fit. The attendant had paired it with a black shirt and onyx cufflinks that probably cost way more than was really necessary for this event, but Pietro was definitely going to talk Bennet into buying the whole ensemble.

_"Ich glaube lila?"_ The attendant waved a selection of ties with a smile.

"Perfect."

"You better get something too. I'm not doing this alone."

Pietro grinned as Bennet selected the plainest and most subdued of the purple ties and threw it around his neck.

"Only fair, Dad. Was tun _Sie für mich haben,_ Gita?"


	17. Schote (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I'm late this week! I forgot I had weekend plans until I was already out of town without my laptop. I was going to post the entire dinner in one chapter, but it was getting up towards 3000 words and I'd rather space it all out for you guys. I promise there will be more action soon! Thank you for sticking with me and thank you for all your lovely feedback- it really makes my day every time. :)

They arrived early enough that they could make appointments at the finest salon in the city. When Wanda mourned that fact that there wasn't much to be done with her unflattering pixie cut, Nika immediately scheduled her appointment early enough to include extension applications. Hours later, they left the salon and took a taxi to the _Schote_.

Wanda had to admit, they both looked amazing- even if she still thought she looked strange with snow white hair. But she liked it better framing her face in soft waves down to her shoulder blades. The dress she had picked out was in her favorite shade of red with artful draping and cap sleeves. Nika hadn't even blinked at the price. Maybe because her own curve hugging satin number cost enough to bankrupt a small country. She looked stunning. She had paired the dress with a pair of Louboutins and classic diamonds at her throat and in her ears. She turned heads as they got out of the taxi in front of the restaurant. People whispered and stared, as though trying to figure out if she was a celebrity. The doorman even bowed to them. Wanda hadn't been to that many upscale restaurants in her life, but she couldn't imagine that was normal.

Nika didn't seem to notice the attention she was drawing. She strode quickly to the host to ask if the men had arrived yet in rapid German. The matre de nodded and gestured for them to follow her to the back of the restaurant. People were still staring at Nika, even though everyone inside was dressed just as elegantly. A few eyes strayed to Wanda, but most were drawn exclusively to the impressive figure wrapped in green satin.

"Ah."

It was barely a one syllable sound uttered as Nika's eyes leveled on the table where Pietro and Wanda's father sat, but there were a thousand different stories hidden inside it. This might be harder than Wanda and Pietro had originally thought. But it all fell away upon seeing Pietro and her father. Forgetting to restrain herself, Wanda ran the last few steps as her father lept to his feet and hugged her tight.

"Goddammit Kid-" his voice was hoarse and rough the way it got when he was trying to repress his emotions into oblivion. " _What_ did you do to your hair?"

"Well, I didn't pierce anything. I had to do something."

She gripped the back of his suit jacket hard and tried to hold back the tears that would smudge her professional makeup job.

"Shit- Wanda- did I win the bet?"

She laughed as she extracted herself from her father to meet Pietro's awe-filled stare.

"Of course not!" She rolled her eyes. "Don't be stu-"

She squeaked as he bowled into her, lifting her off the ground to spin her around. People had to be staring, but neither of them cared. Even though they had spoken on the phone and she knew he was safe, part of her hadn't believed it until they had their arms wrapped around each other. She pressed light, fast kisses to his cheek until he set her down, the both of them laughing uncontrollably.

Wanda would have gone on, but she caught the sight of her father and Nika out of the corner of her eye. The same look of drawn nausea and guilt was twisting on both their faces. The moment attention was turned to them, however, they both smoothed their expressions.

"Shall we sit? Before we are kicked out for disturbing everyone?"

Wanda's father rolled his eyes at Nika's words, but led Wanda to sit in the corner booth.

"I can't believe you did this-" he tugged at her hair. "You look _deranged_."

"Well, I think she looks amazing," Pietro slipped around to Nika's opposite side, forcing her to take the place next to Wanda's father. "Did you get extensions? I thought you said you cut it?"

Wanda nodded. "We spent all day at the salon. Only a couple of inches are actually mine."

"You cut your hair? Wanda- you _love_ your hair."

Wanda grimaced. "I know. But, um..." She hesitated. She wasn't sure how much her father knew about her situation in Brazil. She didn't want to scare him, but she couldn't lie.

"She cut her hair and dressed as a young man because she's clever and didn't want to appear vulnerable in an unfamiliar environment."

Wanda braced herself, not looking at her father. Instead, her eyes flicked to Nika, pleased with how she had framed the decision to show Wanda in such a favorable light.

"Hmm- smart."

Wanda blinked. Was that it? he wasn't going to interrogate her about the danger she had been in? He was flicking through the drinks menu, like they were just discussing her graduation plans.

"Well, it's a good look on us. Should be our thing." Pietro winked at her and she wrinkled her nose back.

"You're on your own, Pietro. I'm going straight back as soon as I can. They just didn't have the time to dye the extensions today."

He pouted, and turned to elbow his mother. "You look lovely too, _Mama_. That's a new dress, isn't it?"

Nika shrugged and ordered wine for all of them when the waiter came to their table. Wanda's father clenched his jaw, but said nothing.

"It's a good color. You should wear more green."

Wanda's father snorted and Nika's eyes flicked to him, narrowed.

"Something funny?"

Wanda and Pietro glanced at each other nervously.

"You don't wear green anymore?" Wanda's father looked like he was trying hard to contain a smirk.

Nika raised a cool eyebrow. "You live in _Budapest_?"

He scowled and turned to the regular menu. Wanda kicked Pietro under the table. This was going terribly. They were supposed to see each other and instantly regret breaking up. Instead, after the euphoria of being reunited with their children, they had fallen into a chilly silence.

"We got new clothes as well. Doesn't Dad look handsome, _Mama_?"

Nika barely glanced up, only to give her son a look for calling Wanda's father "Dad." She returned to her menu almost immediately, her expression blank. "You made a good choice in cut, but I do wish you'd diversify your wardrobe as far as color. You own far too much blue."

Pietro gave Wanda a pleading look. She bit her lip. He was going to hate her for this, but talking about Nika and her father was getting them nowhere.

"So... Pietro- how is Antonio?"

His mouth fell open and he fumbled for words. Oh he was definitely going to get back at her for this.

"Who is Antonio?" Nika frowned at the two of them, still ignoring Wanda's father.

"My neighbor- _our_ neighbor. In Budapest. Pietro met him and they hit it off," she pulled up her brightest, cheeriest smile. "Isn't that nice?"

Nika raised her eyebrows at Pietro, who was staring determinedly at the menu, color creeping up his neck and toward his ears. "And how long did _that_ take to happen?"

Wanda frowned at Nika and resisted the urge to kick her like she had Pietro. The woman blinked at the look, then pulled up an attempt at a genuine smile. "You and Italians- naturally."

Pietro grinned and let out of huff of laughter that sounded too much like relief.

"No charming Russians for this one though, right?"

Wanda almost choked on the water she was sipping at her father's words. She wasn't quite ready to tell him about Vision. She didn't think she'd ever be ready to tell him about Vision.

"Um..."

Nika snorted in a very undignified way that did not quite match her appearance. "No _Russians_..."

Wanda's father turned to her with a frown and she felt her face start to burn. She'd almost forgotten how much she'd told Nika while they were drinking.

"Huh?" her father looked from Nika and Pietro's matching grins to Wanda's flush. "Did I miss something?"

"No. Nothing."

"No- you did not make Vision sound like _nothing_." Pietro was raising a wicked eyebrow at her. This is what she got for outing his romantic dalliances. "He sounds wonderful, Wanda. You should tell us _all_ about him."

Wanda scowled at him.

"Vision? Who's Vision?"

"He's my friend. In Brazil. He helped me get home."

"And his name is _Vision_?"

"It's a nickname," Wanda explained, feeling oddly defensive over the issue.

"Well, if he helped you out so much, he sounds like a nice kid."

Pietro had a wicked glint behind his innocent expression. "Didn't you say he is at least _thirty_?"

Wanda kicked him again. Thankfully, the waiter came with Nika's wine selection and took their orders, saving her from thinking of anything to say. Wanda searched around for a new topic, one that wouldn't provoke her father and Nika and wouldn't put her or Pietro in any uncomfortable situations. It was harder than she would have thought.

"I think," Nika started slowly once the waiter had nodded to their orders and left. "That your father and I deserve to hear both of your stories from the beginning."

Wanda met Pietro's eyes and they both nodded.


	18. Schote (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late again! And I was doing so good for so long!  
> We're getting close to the end, you guys and I'd just like you all to know how much I appreciate your kudos and comments. Even when I'm having a rough day, they always make me smile!

The dinner went better once the subject was focused firmly on Wanda and Pietro. Pietro would have been more uncomfortable, but he was still too amazed with how tightly his mother had hugged him and how she still sat close enough to him that their arms brushed when they moved. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought she had been worried about him.

"So you got Antonio's number, right? You're going to keep in touch?"

Pietro nodded to Wanda and tried not to remember the circumstances under which he and Antonio had exchanged personal information. He didn't think Bennet would approve of what had gone on in the upstairs guestroom while he had gone out to make arrangements for the trip.

Pietro may have panicked when he realized that he was leaving the city and didn't know when they would see each other again. He was relieved to discover that Antonio was not only enthusiastic about being left alone together, but had been evidently carrying a mint tin full of condoms since their kiss in the kitchen. So for all his panicking usually did not serve his relationships well, in this case it had worked out. Quite exceptionally, he might add.

A slow grin spread over Wanda's face as she took in his flush. He glared at her, daring her to call him out again.

"Yes, we will call. And Vision?"

She shifted in her seat. "I have his contact info, but..."

"Oh- that's right. I'm sorry, Wanda."

Bennet frowned at them. "What's wrong?"

Pietro's heart sank. He hadn't meant to do that. He should have just changed the subject.

"Um... I sort of met Vision as 'Caesar.' And..." Wanda fiddled with her napkin, not looking up. "And he may only be interested in Caesar. He doesn't know Wanda exists yet."

Bennet let out a long low whistle and clapped her bracingly on the shoulder, the way men do when they're not sure how to comfort someone. "That's some rough stuff, Kid. Problem for another day though, huh?"

Wanda gave him a half-hearted smile in return.

"Well, if he can't care for you over something so superficial, I'd say you're well rid of him anyway," Pietro's mother said briskly, in the voice she thought was casual, but really came off as condescending.

"Well, it still hurts to lose someone like that," Bennet snapped back too quickly. "Even if they turn out to be a bastard."

Pietro glanced anxiously at Wanda. She gave him a panicked look in return. They were already arguing again. Was no topic safe? They spoke at the same time.

" _Mama-"_

" _Apa-"_

Their parents stopped just long enough to look up, and surprisingly, shut their mouths.

"We are sorry," his mother said stiffly, the word sounding strange in her voice. "This dinner is meant to be for the two of you."

Not knowing what to say, they both took large gulps of their wine.

"You're both gunna be graduating next year."

"Yes!" They chorused, way too enthusiastically.

"Kid- you never told me your major."

"Oh- um- physical therapy."

Bennet snorted so hard into his glass he choked. Wanda had to thump him on the back repeatedly before he could speak again.

"What's wrong with that?" Pietro's mother asked testily before he had a chance to himself.

"You're about to be a certified, college-educated _physical therapist_ -" Bennet was still chuckling through his coughs. "And you passed out jogging when you had a concussion?"

"You _what_?" This time, it was Wanda and Nika who spoke together.

Pietro glanced quickly between them, feeling defensive. "It had been _weeks_. I wanted a run."

"Alone? In a foreign city?"

"Well-"

"Well nothing, you ass! You should know better!"

"Pietro- you are ridiculous."

"Well, if I wasn't so ridiculous, I never would have met any handsome Italians. So-"

"So you didn't know you'd meet Antonio when you passed out. So we need to stick a goddamn bell on you, Kid."

That was it. In just a few minutes, they were all laughing- or just smiling in Nika's case. Pietro was so relieved he hardly cared that he seemed to be the butt of most the jokes- hardly. He successfully managed to turn the ribbing onto Wanda with the mention of her "middle-aged boyfriend."

" _None_ of that is true!" The subject was less a sore one now that the general mood of the table had lifted and she was smiling through her flush. "He's _not_ middle-aged and he's _not_ my boyfriend. He thinks I'm a heterosexual man."

"I still think if your identity matters to him he's not worth the whiskey it takes to forget."

"He's good. He got me home. Never asked anything in return."

"Then he'll manage to still care about you."

"And if he says _one_ word against you-" Pietro cracked his neck and offered his twin a wink. "It's my job to make sure he turns black and blue."

Wanda rolled her eyes at him. "And you'd fly across the ocean to Brazil to beat a stranger for saying rude things to me?"

"Of course- who do you think I am?" He laughed at the face she pulled. "Anyway, I'm sure he's lovely and barely even graying yet."

She kicked him hard as they all laughed.

"We haven't really talked about how Antonio is only 19 though, have we?"

Nika smirked as Bennet chuckled and Pietro glared at her. Their food came not long after. It was better than Pietro was accustomed to. His mother and Bennet ate carelessly, as though the food was hardly worth a mention, but he could tell by the look on Wanda's face that she was in a similar state of culinary euphoria.

"We should make habit of this," he waved his fork at the table at large. "Once a month?"

His mother and Bennet shook their heads almost in unison.

"Sorry, Kid."

"No, Pietro."

"Why not?"

Wanda kicked him again. His shins would be nothing but bruises in a few hours. He knew she wanted him to keep the peace, but he was starting to get angry. How could they be so stubborn?

"Pietro..."

"No- Mama- what could really be so bad? Bennet is not madman, he is not murderer- what could be so terrible you will not see each other?"

He was going to black out from Wanda kicking the same spot over and over. His mother's jaw was set.

"We had an agreement."

"Shit agreement."

"It's been over twenty years," Wanda butted in, clearly trying to take control of what Pietro had let spiral out there of. "Can't you two just get to pleasant terms? For us?"

Oh she was good. Pietro tried to hide how broadly he was grinning at her. Wanda shot him a quick smile.

"Afraid the guilt trip isn't working tonight. Try a different one, Wanda."

Wanda pouted and raised her eyebrows at Pietro. His turn.

"How did you break up? Did one of you cheat?"

To her credit, his mother did not react. Bennet only scowled.

"That's enough- from both of you."

"We deserve to know," Wanda's eyes looked different- almost darker and warmer. Maybe this was what Antonio meant when he talked about her getting angry. "We told you how we found each other, now tell us why you separated us in the first place!"

Bennet was gripping his fork so hard his knuckles had turned white. Pietro's mother was trying to take a sip of her wine, but her hand shook when she lifted her glass.

" _Kellner, Die Rechnung, bitte_."

~

They left in silence, Nika leading the way- striding quickly out onto the street. Wanda's father moved just as quickly, though he kept his distance from the woman ahead of him. Wanda walked with Pietro a few strides behind.

"What were we thinking?" She was trying to swallow a bitter lump in her throat."Pietro-"

He squeezed her hand hard and said nothing.

"Pietro- hurry up."

They glanced at each other. Was Nika really not going to pause long enough to let them say goodbye?

"Mama-"

"Our plane leaves in six hours. You'll have to get your things from the hotel, come with me to get mine, and then spend hours upon hours in customs because you've yet to be issued a new passport."

" _Mama_ -"

"Keep up."

"You can't just-"

The words died on Wanda's lips as there was a shout off to one side of the alley they were traveling down. Before any of them could blink, there was a man rushing to meet Nika head on, fists raised and shouting.

"Nika!"

" _Mama_ -"

"Nat- there's three at your ten!"

Wanda screamed as her father whipped around and barreled into her and Pietro, knocking them all to the ground. She saw stars and wasn't sure if the bang she heard was her own brain protesting to the jarring motion of her body hitting the ground or a gunshot. Disoriented, she tried to sit up, detangling herself from Pietro and searching around through the dark for her father.

"Are you-" Pietro was helping her steady herself. "Wanda-"  
"What- _Apa_ -"

They turned in the same moment to find the fates of their parents. Her father was grappling with one of the few attackers left standing. But as they watched, Nika landed an impressive kick to the side of the head of the man she was fighting, knocking him to the ground, unconscious. Wanda watched, transfixed, as Nika spun to check that the two of them were safe before looking to Wanda's father. He was just landing the finishing blow to the man he was fighting, knocking him to the ground where he stayed.

"You alright, Nat?"

"Yourself?"

"Hey!"

Wanda swallowed a scream as they all four whipped around to see a man step out from behind a dumpster, handgun pointing directly at her father. He stood still staring down the gunman. Wanda's mouth was dry and her head felt stuffed. All she could think of was that she was too far away to do anything. They all were.

" _Apa_!"

"Get down!"

Wanda tore her eyes away from her father just in time to see Nika reach up her thigh- her hand emerging from her skirt in seconds with a handgun to match the assailant's. There was not a moment's hesitation before a shot rang out and the man with the gun staggered to the ground, blood spouting from his left shoulder. Wanda's father acted quickly after that. He strode quickly across the alley and kicked the man's gun far away from the prone bodies they had left the ground littered with. Once it was clear the other man hadn't palmed anymore weapons, he dropped to a knee and knocked the groaning assailant out with a quick rabbit punch to the forehead.

"You two okay?"

Wanda and Pietro just stared at him, numb. Satisfied with this, he stood and turned to Nika.

"Really? I'm sure half the city has this filmed on their phones now-" he gestured to the windows of a nearby apartment building. "You had to pull a gun? There were a hundred ways we could have handled-"

"Oh so sorry for keeping you from being shot in front of our children. I'm sure they already have a litany of new complexes from dinner alone, they don't need trauma on top of-"

"I wouldn't have been shot if you just handled this with a little discretion-"

"We haven't worked on the field together in 21 years, Clint! Forgive me for playing it safe with what I had."

"Playing it safe? Since when do you play it safe? What about your cover?"

"Pietro..." Wanda gripped his hand so tight she could feel his bones shift. "I don't think mom is a translator."

"I'm not sure about Dad either."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA from the author: Don't put condoms in your wallet! The friction can create microscopic little holes in the material. Antonio puts his in a mint tin because it protects the product from friction. Go Antonio! Antonio knows what's up with safe sex and you should too!  
> ((i don't know why this fic is so full of life advise about sex and such for young people but they're good lessons and I try to make them kinda funny so I hope you enjoy.))


	19. Observations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On time this week! At last!  
> Things gettin a little heavy today. Also, I'm very sorry it ends so awkwardly.   
> As always- thank you so much for all your support! I don't think I would have finished this story without you all laughing with me.

When the police arrived, they put them all in separate cars and brought them to the embassy. Pietro kept silent, trying to remember everything his mother had told him about being arrested in a foreign country. But all his reeling mind would allow him to think of was Wanda. He wanted to demand to be taken to her.

Luckily, he didn't need to. After being brought alone to an interrogation room, the door opened once more and his twin was led inside.

"Pietro!"

Once the men that brought her left, they hugged as best they could with one wrist cuffed to the table.

"What do we do- what do we say?" She hissed, her eyes wide and fearful.

"Nothing. We did nothing wrong, Wanda. Right?"

"And- and _Apa_ and Nika?"

He didn't answer. It was bad. He wasn't sure how bad, but Pietro knew that unauthorized firearms in a foreign country weren't taken lightly. Forget all the confusing things their parents had shouted at one another in the alley.

They sat in silence, just holding hands and shivering, for nearly an hour. At last, there were angry voices outside their room.

"Is that-" Wanda turned her head to frown at him.

"Phil?"

The door burst open and in stepped Phil Coulson, looking even more harassed than usual.

"Oh- please! Can we get the handcuffs off the unarmed _civilians_? They're college students for Christ's sake. What are they going to do? Yawn at us? Set these kids loose."

"We're not kids," Pietro protested, trying to scowl. But he'd never been more happy to see the man.

"Phil!" Wanda laughed in relief as a pair of guards uncuffed them. "What's going on?"

"I've assured them that neither of you are a threat," he explained, though his jaw was tight. "You're technically free to go, if you want."

"If we want?" Pietro frowned. "Why would we not want?"

Phil's lip twitched into his own subdued version of a smirk.

"Thought you two might want to stay to see the show."

He turned on his heel, evidently expecting them to follow. Pietro and Wanda glanced at each other before nearly sprinting to catch up with him down the hall. When Phil glanced to either side to see their questioning looks, he smiled and turned to open a door that led to a small, dark room.

"Phil- what-"

He shook his head and gestured the two of them inside. They obeyed. One wall of the room was the viewing side of a two-way mirror, and on the other side sat their parents, still arguing heatedly.

"This may take awhile," Phil informed them, his best smug smile still firmly placed on his lips. "You want me to go pop some popcorn?"

~

"They would kill us if they knew we were watching," Pietro whispered to her the moment Phil was gone.

"Well then we better not tell them," Wanda whispered back, hardly daring to breath. The argument playing out before them was no less heated than it had been in the alley, and made just as little sense.

"I'm telling you, they weren't following me."

"Oh right. And you know that for sure, do you? Because you don't make mistakes, do you, Nat?"

"Why does he keep calling her that?" Pietro muttered, clearly more to himself than to Wanda.

"I don't know," she responded anyway. "And why would anyone be following them?"

"I know when I'm being followed."

"Usually."

"Why do you have to doubt me? Here? Now? 21 years you've been out. How can you expect to be as sharp as-"

"I did just fine, thank you. Not a single body and the four of us were unhurt."

"Thanks to me! Because I was armed!"

"In a country you have no permit to carry weapons in! Your cov-"

"Well, we don't know anything yet, so why don't we just forget about it?"

They glared at one another for what felt like minutes before breaking the eye contact to look over the room.

"Are they just going to wait?" Wanda muttered in disbelief.

"They are children."

Wanda shushed him as Nika started to speak again.

"So I start?"

"If you have to."

"'If I have to-'" she scoffed and leaned back in her chair. "Typical."

"Oh- _I'm_ typical?" Wanda's father forced out a laugh. "Who went and organized a family dinner in a 'neutral country.'"

"Please. I wasn't about to let anyone have the home advantage."

Wanda's father threw up his hands as best he could with one still cuffed to the table. They fell into tense silence again. Wanda was starting to wonder how they had ever managed to get married in the first place if this was how they interacted with one another.

"You know..." her father started up again with another forced hum of false amusement. "I've had 21 years to think of what I was going to say to you if I got the chance. Had some real great lines planned. Can't work out a single one now."

"I would hope part of it was an apology."

He looked down at his hands. "It was, believe it or not."

Nika looked up, not bothering to hide her surprise.

"Oh don't look at me like that."

"Like wha-"

"Like you don't know that _I_ know I was the one that screwed up!"

"You-"

"Forget it," he flapped his hands again and tried to shift to sit at a more extreme angle away from her. "Phil will get wind it's us in no time and straighten this mess out as best as he can. Then we can go our separate ways."

"Again."

"That's right. Like we agreed." He tapped his knuckles on the table in agitation for almost a full thirty seconds before groaning. "We never should have separated them, Nat."

"Don't you think I know that?" She still wasn't looking anywhere near him, her chin lifted as she watched the door. "They've done so many studies on twins. It's not right to mess with their relationship. That's why we adopted them together in the first place."

"I know."

"One of us should have taken both of them."

He raised his eyebrows at her and she glanced over for the first time.

"And you would have given both of them up, would you?"

"You know I wouldn't have, Clint." Her voice was low, dangerously low. "And neither would you."

They looked away from each other again, but this time at their hands on the table. Wanda glanced at Pietro. It seemed they were in for a long wait. When he gave her an anxious look, she moved her chair closer and wrapped both her arms around his, still holding his hand.

"I need to say it," her father started after the long pause. "Even if you're not gunna be happy hearing it-"

"You were right."

Wanda's father didn't hesitate, even though Wanda herself was certain that Nika had never said such a phrase before.

"But I shouldn't have said the things I did. Being right don't give me an excuse to..." he struggled to get the words out. "Hurt you. I shoulda known better."

"I don't get hurt."

"Yes you do," he sighed and angled himself to face her better. "And I shouldn't have acted how I did. I knew better, but I was scared and angry, okay?" He hesitated, but pushed forward. "You're _good_ , Tasha. You're a good person. If either of those kids turned out anything like you, all the better."

Nika made no response, not even a tick in her expression. Wanda's heart was in her throat. The tension was like a solid thing that she could reach out and touch if she wanted to.

"You're not... you don't have anything you want to say?"

"I already said you were right," she clipped. "That is all that I owe you."

"Come on, Nat. I said I was sorry for how I handled it. Can't we just-"

"What did you tell me?" Her words were sharp enough to cut through the thick tension in the air. "When I asked if you were sure? What did you say whenever I had any doubts?"

He blinked once, then the color drained visibly from his face. Wanda wasn't breathing. She'd never seen her father look so stricken. She could hear her bones in her hand creak- or maybe that was Pietro's. It was hard to tell who was squeezing harder.

"I..." Wanda's father spoke so quietly that they had to strain to hear him. "I said we could do it."

"You said together!"

Wanda jumped at the sudden shout and pressed her free hand to her mouth to keep herself from making any noise.

"Together! You said, 'We can do this. Together.' And I believed you!"

"I-"

"I was angry and yes- I'll admit I was hurt- when you said you didn't want them to have a childhood like mine. I knew what you meant, but it still hurt. I think you know that. But when things went wrong-" he voice was shaking so hard she took a breath and lowered her voice, as though it had taken her this long to realize she had been shouting. "You. Gave. Up. You didn't bother trying to fix anything. And you left me to do it alone. Maybe you were fine as a single parent, Clint, but I needed you! I couldn't do it alone and I had to anyway!"

He was staring at her now like he'd never seen her before and it killed him. Wanda still wasn't sure she was breathing. How could anyone possibly breath in a world where Nika Rykov could break down. It just wasn't possible.

"It- it wasn't easy for me."

"It wasn't easy, but you _could_ ," she snapped. "You make hard choices, but you know what you _should_ do. I don't! I didn't know how to fix nightmares and picky eating and trouble with school. You know, Pietro used to fight on the playground. What was I supposed to do about that? I don't know what _normal_ parents are supposed to do about that! I was _rewarded_ for fighting as a child. I know that's not right, but am I supposed to sit by and tell my son not to defend himself when others hurt him? I don't _know_ these things, Clint! I don't know what I'm meant to do in these situations! I can't trust my own moral compass- that's why I needed you!"

She was crying now. It felt perverse and wrong for them to be watching, but Wanda couldn't look away and Pietro hadn't moved an inch, for once. She could feel tears on her own cheeks. A messy sniff to her side told her that her twin was in a similar state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter picks off directly after the last line- I promise! Although technically from Wanda's POV, the segment where the twins hear their parents' story doesn't involve Wanda and Pietro very much, and as a result is veeeerrryyy long and mostly dialogue. I split it up so that the last couple of chapters of this fic are close in length. I tried writing the scene a couple of different ways, but nothing really worked any better.


	20. Strike Team Delta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the last official chapter of this fic! (((Still have the epilogue next week- don't worry!))) Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you enjoy the last few scenes we have with this wacky family. I have to admit I've gotten ridiculously attached to this au, and part of me is sad that there's not much else for me to do with it. But thank you for reading along and I hope you had as much fun as I did!

"Tasha-" Wanda's father was gripping Nika's arm now. It was awkward, and might have been funny in any other situation, how much difficulty he was having trying to get close to her when they were both cuffed. "You- you did good. I promise you- no one knows what they're doing parenting. But you did something right, cuz I can tell already Pietro's a good kid. Bratty and stubborn and thinks he's way funnier than he is, but he's got your good points too. And he thinks the world of you. To be honest, I probably needed you more than you needed me."

Nika gave a highly undignified snort, even as she wiped the tears from her face. "Yeah? And how do you figure that?"

"Are you kidding?" he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Wanda's afraid to tell me things. You know there's plenty of parents that would be _glad_ to hear their teenager wasn't interested in sex? But she was _terrified_ to talk to me about being asexual! What have I ever done to make her so scared to talk to me? I haven't even _yelled_ at her. What's she think I'm going to do?"

"Plenty of parents find reasons to be upset about the love lives of their children. More than upset."

"Well I must have screwed up somethin good to make her think I was one of them."

Wanda had to press her hand to her mouth to keep from making any noise. She wanted to break the glass. To promise him he'd never done anything that wrong in her whole life.

"You don't have to make things up to comfort me."

"When have I ever-"

Nika tried to laugh and shook her head. "Alright, so parenting wasn't easy for you either. Forgive me a little satisfaction in that."

"Go right ahead. I'm not too proud to admit I get a little relieved every time you're less than perfect." As if realizing what he'd just said, he cleared his throat gruffly and hurried on. "Like- that name? Come on, Nat."

She scowled, but there was clearly less storm behind the expression than there had been all night. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nika Rykov? For being a genius, you're sure lazy sometimes. Try some new initials one of these days."

"Those choosing aliases often pick names that begin with the same letters as their birth identity. It helps them hold on and define themselves."

"And helps anyone looking for a red-headed, 5'4" N. R. find her a hell of a lot faster."

"Do you have any idea how unlikely-" she cut herself off, shaking her head and fighting down a smile. "And what about you, while we're at it?"

"What do you mean?"

"What was it? _Bennet_?"

"Oh come on!" He protested while she laughed. "I least I changed the given."

"To what? Impress me with your unpredictability, Mr. Bennet."

"Holy shit..." Wanda murmured. "Is she flirting?"

"I think she might be."

Wanda's father was the one scowling now.

"It's George," he grumbled after another pause.

Nika let out another ugly snort that escalated into an actual, full blown laugh.

" _George_?"

"It's a common enough name!"  
"But honestly- _George_."

"Dad's name is _George_?" Pietro's voice sounded the same as Nika as she kept repeating it. Like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

"Well, apparently not _really_."

"Well it's hilarious trying to get Hungarians to say it the English way," Wanda's father groused. He pressed his lips together, and after a pause, looked up again. "You're still in the game, aren't you?"

Nika nodded. "But I didn't- Pietro doesn't know. He has a normal life. As normal as I could manage."

"I know. You did good."

"You too. Wanda is so clever."

"They're right. We should at least try to see each other. We owe it to them for screwing up so bad."

She hummed in agreement, nodding. "Graduations, at least. Holidays? Maybe their birthday."

Wanda's father laughed.

"Would you look at that. Normal divorced stuff." He paused, his lips pressed together before going on. "Do you know where you'll go if..."

"Well now that we're talking again, I could go back to New York."

"And...?"

It was as if there was a key Wanda needed to decipher the conversation. Like if she just had one piece of information, all the pauses and spaces between what was being said would be filled with meaning. As it was, it just felt like they were speaking a partially different language.

"I've taken precautions," Nika supplied quietly. "Pietro would just have to transfer schools."

Wanda glanced over at her twin. He frowned, clearly having no more idea about this latest exchange than she did.

"You got it all handled. I shoulda known."

She gave him the closest thing to a grateful smile she could clearly manage.

"What about your job? I mean-"

"There'll likely be some kinda inquiry about it," he shrugged. "But I've mentioned my crazy ex before, so I'm thinking of blaming it all on you."

"Good plan. Should I turn up at your office with mascara streaming down my face, threatening to kill you and any woman you've had since me?"

He grimaced. "No, I think I got it. They like me. It'll be fine."

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Wanda wiped her face on the back of her hand and grimaced when probably 60 Euros worth of makeup came off on her skin. Pietro shifted and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his suit jacket.

"We're a mess."

"Well," she tried to laugh, but there was still a sob or two working its way up her throat. "Our parents aren't who they say they are and we're learning all their insecurities without their knowledge or consent, so I think we are allowed to be messy."

He nodded and stretched the hand she had been gripping. "What do you think? Witness protection program?"

"Maybe. How long do you think it will be until Phil-"

They both jumped as the door opened suddenly, and tried to pretend they hadn't just screamed when they saw who it was.

~

"How's it coming?" Phil asked, a stack of files on one arm.

"Where have you been?" Pietro demanded, wiping his face again hastily. Phil hadn't seen him cry since he was eight, and he was certainly not going to break that record. "They were ten seconds from murdering each other!"

He didn't seem too bothered by this information. Phil dropped his files on the table and pulled a chair over from the corner of the room.

"So are they past all that now?"

"Looks like it," Wanda gestured to the room on the other side of the glass. Their parents were sill quiet, but most of the tension was gone.

"What's going on, Phil?"

"Well, no charges will be filed," he said it smugly, like it had taken every ounce of his considerable influence and skills to ensure that this was so. "There might be some complications though."

"Complications?" Pietro interjected, feeling his temper start to flare up again. "Like complications that have to do with why Mama carries a gun and why they call each other different names?"

Phil shrugged, not nearly as sheepish as he should be. "Your parents have never been entirely honest about their pasts. I'm not making excuses for them anymore."

"So what is happening?"

"I'll explain it with them," he waved a hand at the door. "Shall we?"

Pietro swallowed and grabbed Wanda's hand as they followed him out. They broke apart, however, when Phil opened the door to the room with their parents. Pietro tried to keep his face straight, but his mother had always been able to see right through him. Her eyes flicked over both their faces before they started to shine.

"Pietro-"

Once Phil had uncuffed her, she was across the room in an instant. She felt smaller than usual in his arms. It felt wrong.

" _Mama- Prastí. Ja teb'a l'ubl'u. Ja teb'a l'ubl'u-"_

_"Ne izvinyaysya_ _. Nikogda. Ja teb'a l'ubl'u."_

He could hear what Bennet and Wanda were sobbing into each other's shoulders as well.

"You heard-"

"Yes- _Apa_ \- I'm so sorry- I never meant for-"

"Don't worry about it, kid. Not for one second."

He and his mother finally pulled apart to turn to them as well. Pietro blinked at Phil, almost having forgotten he was there at all.

"You have explanation now?"

"Yes," Phil waved his file folders to them all, eyes flicking between Bennet and Pietro's mother. "So, who wants to start?"

"Just get on with it," his mother was impatient. "What's the damage, Phil?"

He sighed. "Your cover if blown, Natasha. I'm sorry."

"Cover?" Pietro was sure he was going to pull something in his neck from all the whipping back and forth he was doing.

"I'm sorry, Pietro. We cannot return to St. Petersburg."

"We can't?"

"No, because-"

"Your mom still works for the CIA," Bennet interjected, flipping a hand as though this were only a minor, unimportant detail.

His mother glared at Bennet. "Excuse me, but I would like to reveal my own information to _my_ son, thank you very-"

"He's _my_ kid too, Nat-"

Pietro's mother rounded on Wanda. "Your father's name is Clint Barton and he used to be an undercover agent with me in the CIA-"

"Oh- _real_ mature, Natasha-"

"What are you saying-"

"Your mom's name is Natasha Romanov and she's still in the spy game-"

"I _told_ you they were spies!"

"You knew-"

"He was joking- but we made a bet about it and-"

"And _I_ won-"

"Well, I already bleached my hair, so-"

"Will you four just be quiet for five seconds?"

They all grudgingly quieted at Phil's raised voice. There was so much and so little to say.

"Do we have details on the attackers?" Pietro's mother stood with a wide stance, her arms crossed. He knew that stance. That was the stance that meant Nika Rykov- or rather, Natasha Romanov- was going to get answers or else someone was about to be very sorry.

"Word has it, they're just local muggers that had the bad luck to pick out the Hawk and the Widow as targets," Phil shrugged. "So nothing to pursue, I promise."

"Don't call me-"

"Fine, Strike Team Delta-"

"We're not a team anymore, Phil."

"Anyway," Phil turned to Wanda and Pietro instead now, giving up on his two coworkers. "The short version is: Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton were the best agents we had, just over 20 years ago. That is, until they got married, adopted a set of twins, and then after one year of playing house, broke up. Agent Romanov took a new assignment in her home country, and Agent Barton retired under an alias at a low level security position in Hungary. Now that her 'Rykov' cover has been blown, your mom and you are going to have to move someplace else- at least until the mess blows over and her trail goes cold." He hesitated, his expression softening. "I'm sorry, Pietro."

There was an unnatural stillness in the silence that followed. It was as though everyone was waiting for someone else to react first. Pietro knew he should feel something at the news that he could never return to the only home he had ever known. But mostly it just felt like another detail in a long list of life changing events from the past month.

"Well," he shrugged, pulling up a smile to each member of his family. "I hear the universities in Budapest are nice."


	21. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are- at the end of the line! I'm actually pretty proud of myself for finishing this fic, but I'm sorry to see it go. I hope you all had just as much fun as I did and that I could brighten your days. Thank you for sticking with me for so long!

Wanda pulled her knees up to her chest and chewed a pen as she stared at her laptop screen. She'd been drafting and redrafting the message for days, and it still sounded stupid. Nothing seemed right in any way shape or form. Maybe she should just hole up in her closet and never attempt to make friends again. Interacting with humans was just not worth the complications.

She was startled out of her thoughts of hermitage by the door to her bedroom bursting open.

"If I have to hear one more American tell me they haven't seen me since before I could walk-" Pietro let out a dissatisfied groan and flopped down on her bed with no real greeting. "I will... give myself another concussion. Or something."

"Mom's still playing 'open house' for all the 'old days' friends?" She minimized her window and swiveled the chair to face him. Wanda didn't mind his complaining. She would feel the same way if she was living in Nika's new, and very tiny, Budapest apartment. As it was, she carefully planned her own visits to avoid the onslaught of visitors looking to catch up with their friend who had been undercover for over twenty years. Evidently, she had snuck into the US for a visit or two, but there were still seeming hundreds of coworkers looking to have coffee and hear everything about the last two decades.

Nika- or, Natasha, rather- never seemed able to admit it, but she seemed touched by all the attention. Wanda thought she had expected to be forgotten by all her fellow agents at the CIA.

When the agents were finished with her, they came to see Wanda's father. Evidently they had seen him a few more times than Nika, since his cover was less sensitive. But he usually talked them into going out to a pub or at least the backyard, so Wanda was able to avoid the strangers after brief "hello"s and "you grew up so beautiful!"s.

"They are so _loud_ ," he pouted, digging his phone out of his pocket. "And Antonio is traveling. Your room is the only safe place in the whole city. We should hide here until they are all gone. Do you have food in here?"

Wanda tossed him a bag of candies from her desk.

" _Kosz_."

Having enrolled in his final few courses at her university, they had been working on his Hungarian. It was slow going. Pietro was easily frustrated and hated feeling stupid. But Wanda suspected that it was going much better than it would have with anyone else trying to teach him. Even so, it was hard for her to balance teaching him Hungarian with teaching herself Portuguese. Luckily, Pietro had no lecture courses, and most his instructors spoke enough English to help.

"If you were working on something, is fine. I will look at more flats."

They had agreed to get an apartment together nearer to campus for the school year. It was an arrangement they were both thrilled with- just so long as Pietro gave her fair warning whenever Antonio would be staying. There were still a few weeks before their classes started, so they had been picky about their choices and were constantly sending one another promising listings.

"Oh- it's fine. I just..."

"Still working on your 'I'm a girl' email to Vision?"

Having a twin who could read her every feeling like it was written down for him wasn't always convenient. She picked at a spot of lint on her jeans. She was running out of excuses not to Skype Vision, but she still couldn't bring herself to send the message. She'd lumped the "I'm a girl" and the "I'm asexual so even if you're interested in me as a woman, things aren't all that simple" messages into one in the hopes of getting all the tough stuff over with in one fell swoop.

"Maybe..."

He gave her a sympathetic look. "It will be fine. I know it's not the same, but explaining the whole story to Mariah actually went really well. She's promised to visit if she's ever in Europe."

"Wouldn't that be weird for her?"  
"Not really. I'm friends with plenty of people I've slept with."

Wanda let out a half-hearted laugh. "So you get an American pen pal _and_ an Italian boyfriend out of this whole mess. And what do I get?"

"Something between the two? And are they still a pen pal if we use Facebook and Skype?" He raised his eyebrows and sat up. "What do you have so far?

Wanda got up and gestured for him to trade places with her. She didn't think she could stomach reading the message aloud. She flopped onto her bed and continued where he had left off on his phone, scrolling through apartments.

"'Dear Orsen'? We're changing that."

She ignored him as he clacked away, editing her message. She didn't even notice anymore when they spoke in the plural instead of singular. They both made the change as easily as breathing.

She bookmarked a Spartan two-bedroom on the other side of town, mentally calculating what time she would have to wake up to get to class at that distance.

"Why is this so formal? I'm fixing it so it sounds like how you actually talk."

"That's fine. How's Mom?"

"She's fine. But I think she's ready to escape her guests too. She is not very good hostess."

Wanda grinned, looking up from the phone for the first time. "Oh- I know."

He grinned over his shoulder before turning back to the email. "And Dad?"

"He's trying to be cool about me moving out. But he keeps forgetting that he's already bought us towels. So... we have four sets of towels."

He hummed in amusement. "Less laundry."

"That's what he said. But honestly, we're likely going to have one bathroom. Where are we going to keep all those towels?"

"Who knows," he sighed and got up from her desk. "Move over."

She complied, only enough so that he could lie down next to her and drop and arm around her shoulders.

"Can you-"

He passed her her own phone and took his back before she had even finished the request. The more time they spent with each other, the easier it was to guess one another's thoughts, feelings and wishes. Wanda should have found it bizarre and interesting, if only on a professional level, but it felt so natural, they hardly noticed it as unusual.

"Did you save the draft? I want to see your changes."

"No. I sent it.

"You what?!" Wanda rocketed off the bed, scrambling for her laptop. He didn't. He wouldn't.

He absolutely had.

"Well you were never going to send it yourself."

"I was just editing! I wanted it to be perfect..." she lamented, staring futilely at her "sent" folder.

"Wanda, was it ever going to be perfect?"

She closed her laptop with a snap and dropped her face down on the surface.

"I'm going to kill you..." she moaned. "I'm going to murder you. And then Mom will murder me. And then _Apa_ will try to murder her but they will kill each other. And we will _all_ be dead. And it will be all _your_ fault."

"And you say _I'm_ the dramatic one."

Wanda ignored him and continued to brood, as though if she pressed her forehead into her laptop hard enough, she might suck the message out of the internet and back into her brain where it belonged. She wasn't even as angry with him as she should be. If she was being honest with herself, she would admit that she needed- and even wanted- the push. A tiny part of the back of her mind had wanted him to intervene when she let him read and edit the message. But that didn't mean she was ready to hear Vision's response.

She groaned and slumped over to the bed, lying crosswise over the end with her face buried in her covers.

"Wanda? Wanda, are you mad at me?"

"Not really," she admit grudgingly, words muffled by her quilt.

"Do you want to take your mind off it? Do you want to go down to the festival by the river?"

"No."

"Do you want to stay here being sad and lonely?"

"Yes."

"Do you want me to go down to the festival and get you street food?"

" _Lángos_. At least three. Cheese on two, mushrooms on the other."

~

Pietro closed the door to her bedroom behind him and wandered downstairs, checking his pocket for money. Bennet was right. Hungarian money was unwieldy and made no sense. He usually ended up handing over the largest bill he had and smiling apologetically as the cashiers counted out his change.

"Steve is staying for a few days. You should come see him."

Pietro froze on the stairs. There was no mistaking his mother's voice. Not in a million years. Though on slightly better terms since Essen, as far as he and Wanda knew, their parents hadn't made any personal calls on one another since his mother moved to the city. What was she doing here?

"Is Pietro here?"

"Might be. I just got back. How's the Captain?"

"Same as always. I can't believe it's been almost ten years."

"Ten?"

"Oh- I went to the wedding in '06."

"You went to Tony's wedding?!"

"Well, it was _Stark_ , so it was less of a wedding and more of a party."

"Dammit, Nat!"

Even from his place hidden on the stairs, Pietro could tell that Bennet- or Barton- or Dad- or whatever- wasn't nearly as annoyed as he was trying to sound.

"Oh come on. I knew you wouldn't be there."

"Because of the _agreement_."

"That's always been your problem. You don't improvise enough."

There was a definite smile in her voice. Pietro crept as quietly as he could down a few more steps. It was terrible timing for this to be happening right now. Wanda should be here.

"I'll come over and see Steve. Later."

There was a brief pause. Pietro leaned in like this might help him hear better.

"So you're looking to stay in the city?"

"Just until the twins graduate. The director wants me back in the states."

"Old position?"

"Yes. Data gathering was never what I wanted. But it was safer with a child at home."

"Yeah."

"You were alright though? Security all this time?"

"Yeah, I was alright. Can't say it was the same though. Haven't been shot at in years."

"How mundane."

Another pause. Pietro rolled his eyes. They were still such children. He slid his phone from his pocket as quietly as he possibly could and hacked out a message.

_"Stop moping about your sexy Brazilian boytoy- Mom's here talking to Dad and I'm eavesdropping."_

He hastily shoved his phone back in his pocket as the conversation started up again.

"Lot of other parts of my life have been kinda boring too. Not just work."

"Wanda spent quite a bit of time assuring me how single you have been."

"Our kids need to mind their own business."

"Ain't that the truth." Another brief pause. "I'm guessing Pietro did the same?"

"Basically. I don't think we punished them enough as kids. Should have just had random punishment days to keep them in line."

"Good plan, but it's too late now."

"Yeah." Another pause. "But uh- point is-"

"I missed you too, Clint."

Pietro resisted the urge to punch the air.

"...Wow. I was expecting to dance around this for another hour."

"Well, if I'd waited for you to go first, we would have." Another pause. "You were going to say it too, right?"

"Yeah. I've missed you. Not just with the parenting, but..."

Pietro pulled a face, hoping beyond hope that he was not about to hear about the amazing sex they once had again. No healthy relationship with one's parents could suppress the horror of hearing about said parents' equally healthy sex life.

"Same here."

"Same here? We're not very good at this, are we, Nat?"

"We never were. But if you must know, I still have mornings where I wake up and wonder why you're not next to-"

There was the quick curtailment of breath that could only mean one thing. Pietro scrambled for his phone again.

_"Where are you? IT'S HAPPENING. GET DOWN HERE. BUT QUIET."_

"Sorry. I know you hate it when I do that. What were you saying?"

"Shut up."

This time it was his breath that was cut off. Pietro was leaning so far he almost fell when a hand tapped his shoulder. He swallowed a yell and grabbed the railing to steady himself.

"What's going on?" Wanda whispered, gripping his arm both for comfort and to keep him from falling forward again.

"They're _kissing_. In the _kitchen_! It's full _domestic_!"

"No they're no-" she cut herself off with an expression of mixed surprise, joy and horror as the sound of someone breathing through their nose while they mouth was very busy made its way to them. "Holy shit."

"You two need to stop listening at keyholes."

They exchanged a quick wince.

"There's no keyhole!" Wanda called back.

"And we don't know what is happening in there!"

"Get in here."

They glanced at one another, then grabbed each other's hands and padded down to the kitchen. Pietro's mother was sitting on the counter, trying very hard not to smile. Their father at least had the decency to be several meters away, leaning against the refrigerator.

"Your parents are spies, you idiots."

"We're not idiots- and it was all Wanda's fault. _I_ said we should let you have privacy."

"You raised a liar, Nat. A bad one."

"Well, I did my best."

"You two are _so_ immature," Wanda crossed her arms. "But don't get us wrong- we're thrilled you've kissed and made up." She grinned at their mother. "It's like a Katherine Heigle movie."

Pietro crossed his arms and grinned at their parents' matching scowls.

"See- _she's_ the bratty one."

"I still made the right call back then though," their father said with smug satisfaction.

"Are you kidding? Wanda was the biter."

"Well, yeah. I knew she could look after herself. Less work for me." He tapped a finger to his temple. "Smart. _You_ got the raw end of the deal- with the crier."

Pietro's mouth dropped open to defend himself. "I am _not_ the-"

"Yes, you were," his mother waved a hand lazily to dismiss his protests. "But it was no chore. Sleeping next to a snorer really helped prepare me for ignoring noises at night."

"You _ignored_ me when I cried?!"

"Well, you did it so often, you see-"

"No wonder I'm such an attention-seeking ass! It's all your fault, Mama."

She offered a bored shrug and he couldn't fight off a smile. There may have once been a time when accusing her of being responsible for his flaws would have led to a fight or a few weeks of silent treatment between them, but now they joked about such things with relative ease. Sometimes you couldn't learn the best and worst of one another without letting go of your old insecurities.

"Well, anyway- we were right and you two were wrong."

"And so I think we can all agree," Wanda continued for him. "That Pietro and I will be making _all_ family decisions from now on."

Their father waved a hand at them while their mother rolled her eyes.

"Well, we didn't get the memo just yet," their father gestured to the paper bags on the table. "So, I went and picked us up some street food for dinner. Hope management approves."

Wanda and Pietro grinned at one another as they all made their way to the cramped breakfast table, grabbing glasses and silverware on their way.

"We'll let it slide this time, _Apa_."

"Yeah, just be sure it doesn't happen again, Agent Barton."

Their father groaned and shot them both a scowl as he laid out the lángos, sausages, and sandwiches.

"What were you two doing upstairs?"

"Emailing Wanda's boyfriend for her."

"With her permission of course," their mother gave him a look and didn't even flinch when the only seat left open for her was the one next to their father. The two of them fell into a comfortable ease next to one another, passing dishes and food like they did it every day.

"No."

"Pietro you can't just-"

"It's okay, _Anya_ , I knew he was going to do it."

"No, it's not okay- _he_ didn't know that _you_ knew he would."

"Yes I did. We're _twins_."

"You can't read each other's minds, Pietro, that's not real."

"How would you know, Dad?"

"Yeah- how would you know?"

"Christ you two, just eat, will you?"

Pietro and Wanda grinned at each other as they dug in to the greasy and delicious food. He made sure both their parents mouths were full before speaking again, his voice light and innocent.

"So... are you going to have a _real_ wedding this time around?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a cute little family. Go forth and hug your loved ones. It may seem kind of weird that I made the twins Clint and Natasha's adopted children, but there was a reason (aside from that I felt it was more in character). It was my intent with the overall themes of this goofy little fic to show a lot of different kinds of family and show that they all can be equally important: the people that you grew up with, the people you share blood with, and the people you find along the way are not in competition with one another.  
> And one last author's PSA for old time's sake: Don't send messages from other people's email/phone/etc without their permission. Pietro is a brat. Don't be a brat. Even if you have a twin. :)


End file.
